Sixty Minutes With Dr Nolan
by Juliabohemian
Summary: Dialogue only conversations between House and his psychiatrist at Mayfield which make up the entirety of one hour sessions. M for language and very touchy subject matter. Spoilers for season 6. Eventual House Wilson slash. House Nolan friendship.
1. Sixty Minutes

_This is a very long, dialogue only conversation between House and his psychiatrist at Mayfield that makes up the entirety of one session. I am splitting it into two parts, because of the length. I will probably add another session to this. But don't hold me to it. There will be another story that is part of this verse. It's almost done, at about 9000 words. But I'm not sure when it will be posted._

* * *

**Sixty Minutes With Dr. Nolan**

"You're late…again."

"And I'm handicapped…_still_."

"You have more than enough time to make it to my office, and a number of orderlies who would be happy to push you here in a wheelchair, or anywhere else in the hospital for that matter. They'd probably even carry you, if they had to."

"I'd rather limp."

"You value independence over punctuality."

"Yes."

"Even if means being late?"

"Ten minutes. Big deal. It's not like you're not being compensated."

"It's not a big deal."

"Then why mention it?"

"I was making an observation."

"A pointless one."

"I intentionally schedule your sessions right before my lunch break. So I can go over if I have to."

"Oh aren't you clever."

"Therapy is important to your recovery."

"What exactly am I recovering from, aside from terminal boredom and a diet consisting mostly of preservatives and starch?"

"What do _you_ think you're recovering from?"

"I don't."

"Then why are you here?"

"That's a good question, doc. I'm detoxed. I'm not hallucinating. And yet you guys don't seem to want to send me home."

"I think you have some deeper issues to address."

"And I obviously don't. I signed myself into this joint."

"But you can't sign yourself out. Only I can do that."

"Oh that power, it's so very sweet."

"Yes, that's why I do it. It had nothing to do with wanting you to have a clean bill of mental health."

"Nobody has a clean bill of mental health. Pull any five people off the street and you can diagnose them with some…disorder."

"But you're the one who is sitting in my office."

"If you discharged me, then you could go to lunch early."

"Maybe I value your mental health over my lunch."

"Maybe you should find a new place to eat."

"You don't think you're important?"

"More important than a five dollar foot long? It comes with chips and a cookie, you know."

"What I don't understand Greg, is why you're so resistant. I get that this isn't the most pleasant experience. It seems almost like you'd rather drag it out than just do that which would make it pass more quickly, which is to actively participate."

"What can I say? I'm a masochist."

"You enjoy suffering."

"Apparently."

"Definitely possible. But I don't think that applies here. Recovery is hard…I grant that. But you're intentionally making it harder for yourself than it even needs to be, and you're intelligent enough that I find it difficult to believe you aren't aware of that fact."

"I don't want to be here."

"But you are here and you know that you can't leave until I discharge you, and you know that I'm unlikely to discharge you when you continue to be uncooperative. So explain to me why a person as obviously intelligent as yourself would go out of his way to make something more difficult for himself."

"I just told you_, I don't want to be here_."

"Your behavior suggests that you do. If you really didn't want to be here, you'd be doing whatever you thought might urge me to discharge you faster."

"I wouldn't pretend to know what that is."

"Again, I find that hard to believe. As a doctor, you know exactly what you'd have to do and say to facilitate your own release. And yet here you are, making things harder on yourself by refusing to cooperate."

"…"

"From your expression, I'd say you've heard this before."

"You're not the first person to try to assimilate me, if that's what you mean."

"I see. Who else has attempted to _assimilate _you?"

"Who _hasn't _tried to assimilate me?"

" That's what I'm trying to find out…teacher, coach, parent?"

"My father, for one."

"Your father told you that you were making things harder on yourself."

"..."

"What do you think he was he referring to?"

"I don't know…life?"

"Was your life difficult?"

"Everyone's life is difficult."

"That's probably true. But right now, let's talk about yours."

"It was…life. We moved a lot. Nothing interesting happened. I had normal childhood woes…how many firecrackers will I need to blow up GI Joe…and why did I leave my Tonka truck out in the rain to get rusty?"

"Why _did_ you leave your Tonka truck in the rain to get rusty?"

"Something Oedipal, definitely. The rain was like…my mother. No, the rain represented _chaos_. And the truck…was my penis. And the rust was…okay the _rust _was my penis and the truck was like…my self esteem…"

"You don't believe in symbolism?"

"Sure…but since I'm not a character in a Hemingway novel."

"You could be."

"But I'm not."

"So what do you think your dad might have been referring to, if your life was as uneventful as you say?"

"He was a bit of a control freak."

"Meaning he was controlling of you. How?"

"Rules and regulations."

"Two things you seem to openly resent even at this stage of your life. Think there might be a connection?"

"…"

"How did your father go about enforcing these rules and regulations?"

"Discipline…was one of his favorite words. You would have liked him."

"Why do you think I would have liked him?"

"Because he would approve of your methods."

"I find it interesting that you'd group me in with your father. Do you consider me to be an authority figure?"

"I can't leave unless you discharge me."

"So the imbalance of power is how you define who has authority over you."

"How do you define it?"

"Some authority is granted. Some people give authority to a god or gods who cannot be seen or heard. An apprentice chooses to obey his master out of respect. Who do you respect enough that you'd choose to obey?"

"No one in this room."

"Did you respect your father?"

"Not by his standards."

"Which implies that perhaps you did respect him, but he was either unable or unwilling to acknowledge it."

"No…I didn't respect him by my own standards either."

"I see. Why not?"

"…"

"Did your father's discipline include corporal punishment?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"A problem with authority figures can almost always be traced back to some form of corporal punishment."

"Right."

"So…is that a yes or a no?"

"Yeah…sure."

"Do you think he was physically abusive?"

"Define _abusive_."

"Depends on the person. I've known people who due to their culture, were quite severely whipped as children and claim to be a better person for it. I've known people who never had a hand laid on them and ended up traumatized by mere words. I'm asking if you _felt_ abused. The term implies motive, but not necessarily specific action."

"I don't know."

"You don't know if you felt abused?"

"…"

"Explain to me the context of that statement. Your father said you were making things harder on yourself. What things?"

"I don't remember."

"But you remember the statement. Somehow I doubt you'd remember the statement, but not the context. Was it made in reference to some sort of discipline that he was using to enforce his rules and regulations?"

"Maybe."

"So…your father thought you were trying to postpone that discipline by stalling, that he was encouraging you to get it over with quickly, and you didn't comply."

"I wouldn't say…encourage."

"So…what _would_ you say? Give me a verb."

"Berate?"

"So it was a negative experience."

"Yes."

"You felt criticized for not wanting to readily submit yourself to whatever discipline he might have chosen for you. Perhaps he was attempting to goad you into compliance, appeal to your ego."

"_Goad_ is a good word."

"Did he ever use physical discipline against you for no reason at all?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Was it usually in response to an actual misdeed, or could it happen unexpectedly and without warning?"

"No…he…I mean I _did_ stuff. It wasn't like he'd just randomly walk up and start beating on me."

"Was it the kind of _stuff _that warranted discipline? Do you think corporal punishment was an overreaction?"

"He was strict."

"Greg…that's not an answer."

"I don't know what you want me to tell you."

"I'm trying to find out how much of your attitude towards authority figures is a result of your inherently rebellious personality and how much is the result of genuine emotional trauma."

"You think it's my fault?"

"Fault is irrelevant. Conflicts arise not just when there's a conscious disagreement, but when there is a stark contrast between the way two people think and behave. There isn't necessarily a right or wrong party. Did he ever discipline you for no reason at all?"

"I already told you, _no_."

"Did he ever discipline you for something that it would have been impossible for you to avoid?"

"Like what?"

"What I mean is, were you armed with the knowledge that would have given you the ability to avoid being disciplined?"

"I knew what the rules were, if that's what you mean."

"So you knew what they were, but chose to break them. Why?"

"…"

"Did he ever physically overpower you in an attempt to carry out the discipline?"

"I don't…not really."

"Not really?"

"…"

"This is making you uncomfortable."

"Yeah…well, you know. If you're just going to tell me I had it coming, I could probably have saved you the trouble and telephoned my mother instead."

"I didn't say you _had it coming_. That was your mother's position on the matter?"

"Probably. But it's not like she really knew."

"Really knew what?"

"What he was doing to me."

"What _was_ he doing to you?"

"…"

"Do you think it would have changed her opinion if she _had_ known what he was doing?"

"Maybe. Probably not."

"Some people believe it's the father's role to discipline the children. Did she express any opinions about your father's methods?"

"She'd…say he was doing it for my own good."

"Even though she wasn't completely sure what it was he was doing."

"Yeah."

"So she must have trusted him completely to tend to those matters, to the point where she didn't think it was necessary for her to be involved."

"Obviously."

"And you disagreed with that assessment, that it was _for your own good_."

"Yes."

"Did you tell her this?"

"No. "

"Did you make any attempt to inform her about the extent of your father's methods?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I just didn't."

"Were you afraid she might not believe you?"

"I don't know."

"Were you afraid your father might exact some sort of revenge?"

"I don't know."

"Did he ever threaten to?"

"No…I don't know."

"So…is that a maybe?"

"No. It's an _I don't know_."

"Were you afraid of your father?"

"_Everyone_ was afraid of my father."

"So that included you."

"…"

"And how long did you continue to experience this fear?"

"Pretty much up until earlier this year."

"Ah…and what changed earlier this year?"

"He died."

"So…you were afraid of him even throughout your entire adulthood and the only thing that quelled that fear was his death."

"I was kidding. Can you not detect the sarcasm?"

"I detect the sarcasm, which you seem to use only when you're attempting to deflect. Which is why I don't think you're kidding."

"Everyone was afraid of him. He was an intimidating guy."

"Some might make the same observation about you."

"I'm not intimidating."

"Why would you say that?"

"I'm…just not. Trust me. I walk with a cane, for God's sake."

"So you think handicapped people can't be intimidating. You think that physical strength and agility are the only means of intimidation?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

"I just meant…it's not like I'm much of a threat."

"So someone has to be physically threatening, in order to be intimidating."

"That's what _intimidating_ means."

"It can mean lots of other things. You're basing that definition solely on your interactions with your father. In your mind, your failure to succeed in a power struggle with your father constitutes a failure to be intimidating."

"I'm not basing _anything_ on my father."

"Then why bring him up?"

"I _didn't_."

"Technically, you did."

"Because you….whatever. I'm not basing anything I'm doing _now_ on him."

"Most men do, even the emotionally healthy ones."

"Yeah, and what if they had no fathers?"

"They…substitute that role with another male or perhaps a dominant female. Even primates do this. The moment at which the male realizes he is physically or intellectually capable of overthrowing his father is a very important one…the ceremonial passing of the torch. It's an experience that requires mutual interest and participation. In simple terms, the father has to be willing to lose that battle, because he knows that the alternative is losing the relationship."

"My dad was not willing to _lose _anything."

"And so he forfeited any chance of gaining your respect or affections, and sentenced you to self doubt and an inability to derive meaning from your life."

"Well, now I can't say that he never gave me anything."

"Do you feel like he contributed to your life in any positive way?"

"No."

"Were you were a difficult child?"

"All children are difficult."

"Must you always speak in generalities? I'm asking if you feel that _you_ were especially difficult."

"I guess I wasn't exactly every parent's dream."

"You were a disappointment."

"Was that a question?"

"No, it was a statement. You implied that your parents are or were dissatisfied with you at some point. When did that start?"

"Birth?"

"Why do you think they might have been disappointed with you?"

"…"

"Were you a planned child?"

"No. I was the result of an affair that my mother refuses to acknowledge took place."

"I see. Did your father know about the affair?"

"I don't know for sure."

"How did you figure this out, since it sounds like neither your mother or father would have volunteered it."

"I noticed some obvious biological differences."

"But you never conducted any sort of definitive tests?"

"I did actually…at his funeral. I took a DNA sample."

"And your lifelong suspicion was finally confirmed."

"Yeah."

"How did that feel after all that time, having your suspicion confirmed?"

"…"

"Sounds like it was dissatisfying."

"No balloons and confetti fell from the sky, if that's what you mean."

"Were you hoping they would?"

"…"

"What were you hoping would result from that knowledge?"

"…"

"Did you confront your mother with this information?"

"No."

"What do you think would happen if you did?"

"She'd…cry and then accuse me of being petty. He's dead now, see. So whatever shitty things he did when he was alive are null and void and now we can only remember the good things about him, as if there were any."

"Was you mother emotionally manipulative?"

"Artfully so."

"Give me an example."

"She'd claim to hate conflict. She'd…say she didn't want us to fight. But then she'd run to him with every little thing."

"So you feel like she betrayed you."

"No..."

"Do you think at least some of the discipline you received was a result of your mother's…like you said, crying to your father about _every little thing?"_

"Sure…probably some. I mean some things he'd never have known about. She didn't _have _to tell him."

"Why do you think she did?"

"She couldn't handle anything by herself. She could hardly handle changing a light bulb, without someone there to hold her hand. She's the last person you'd want around in an emergency."

"It sounds like you hold her at least partially responsible for the animosity between you and your father."

"Maybe."

"You think that might be connected to the fact that your mom had an affair, which she refuses to acknowledge and therefore put you in a position to be raised by a man who was not your real father?"

"Oh I think there _might _be a connection."

"Did your perception that your dad was not your real dad have any impact on your reluctance to accept discipline from him? Or did that realization come later."

"I was about twelve when I figured it out."

"Ah. So I assume there wasn't much in the way of discipline past that point."

"No…there was."

"How old were you when he stopped utilizing corporal punishment?"

"Maybe…fifteen."

"That's…kind of old."

"I guess."

"Would you describe it as excessive?"

"Define _excessive_."

"The reason I ask is that's traditionally a punishment for younger children, one that can often be humiliating and emotionally confusing, if there's no real communication going on. To continue utilizing it even after puberty is generally not effective. If you were out of control, breaking laws…that might explain why your father felt desperate enough to employ such methods. But if you were well behaved, then those methods could be labeled excessive."

"I…wasn't _well behaved_."

"I see. Were you badly behaved?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? You were either badly behaved or you weren't."

"I don't feel qualified to say."

"Why?"

"Because I'm biased."

"Were you ever in trouble with the law?"

"A few times."

"What did you do?"

"Just…you know, stuff."

"Like?"

"One night when my parents went to bed, I waited until they turned out their light and…I borrowed my dad's car."

"Where were you going?"

"Just…out."

"And you were arrested?"

"For driving without a license."

"How old were you when this happened?"

"Fifteen."

"Right…not old enough to drive and I imagine there was also a curfew of some sort. Was that your only offense, or just the most noteworthy?"

"That was…I mean, there were other things. But nothing quite like that."

"Did you serve time for this?"

"Sort of. The charges were dropped."

"Because of your age?"

"No because…it was on a military base and the car was my father's and…he was friends with the guys who arrested me."

"I see. So your father smoothed that over for you?"

"Yeah."

"Did he do that a lot, smooth things over when you got into trouble?"

"A few times."

"Give me another example."

"He talked to the principal once, to keep me from being suspended."

"What did you do to warrant suspension?"

"I had a…disagreement with a teacher."

"Ah…physical or verbal?"

"A little of each."

"And did your father discipline you for that offense?"

"I was a senior in high school when that happened."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"He…ignored me for a few days."

"What purpose was that meant to serve?"

"I don't know."

"What purpose do you think it was _meant_ to serve?"

"Clearly, I wasn't worthy of his very valuable attention."

"So you think he was shunning you?"

"Obviously."

"Do you think it might have been related to his own feelings of frustration? Was he perhaps going out of his way not to interact with you, because he knew he was angry and might do or say something he would regret?"

"I don't think he had any regrets."

"You don't think your father regretted anything."

"Aside from me, of course."

"You think he regretted your existence?"

"It would explain a lot."

"But if you were the result of an affair your mother had, then he's technically not responsible for your existence. So he can't very well regret it. Do you mean that he regretted being your father? Because that was a choice he made. The other was not."

"He didn't _choose_ anything."

"So your mom just…thrust you at him and said _here, have a kid_ and he was powerless to stop it.

"She got pregnant when he was overseas."

"So he came back and discovered this?"

"I'm assuming."

"But he's probably intelligent enough to realize that based on your date of birth, you'd been conceived while he was away."

"So?"

"So…he must have made a choice. At some point, he must have said to himself _okay this isn't my biological child. But I'm going to be his dad anyway_."

"And I'm sure he regretted it."

"If that were so, wouldn't it have been easier to leave? He could have divorced your mother, instead of lugging you both around the globe like that. You said they were married for fifty years."

"He wasn't going to leave her over me."

"So he chose to stay _for her_."

"Yeah."

"Okay…tell me about being arrested? How did your parents find out?"

"It was…late, around midnight. I had a fake ID that I was going to show at the guard station. But I never made it off the base. The MP recognized me and took me in. I assume he called my parents at home to let them know I'd been detained."

"And they came to get you."

"No…my dad told them he'd come in the morning."

"He wanted you to spend the night there in the cell?"

"Yeah."

"How did you feel about that?"

"I wasn't surprised."

"What happened when he picked you up?"

"He came the next day…early. I'd slept in the cell. They…woke me up and dragged me to this room…"

"Who's _they?"_

"My dad and a couple of other men."

"What kind of room?"

"It was like…a conference room or an interrogation room. It was empty except for the table and chairs and a coat closet. And I was still half asleep at first. They didn't even say anything to me."

"Did you ask what was going on?"

"No."

"Continue."

"As soon as we got in there, two guys…they each grabbed one of my shoulders and forced me face down over this table."

"Your feet were still on the floor?"

"Yeah."

"So you were just kind of hunched over it."

"Yes. So no one was saying anything and this other officer came up behind me and just…started undoing my pants."

"To do what?"

"I thought…maybe my dad had told them to strip search me. Except that didn't make sense, since I was being released and I heard one of the other men say that there weren't going to be any charges."

"Why do you think your father would want them to do that?"

"To complete the whole _jail experience_."

"You were basing that on the fact that he'd opted to leave you there overnight. You think he wanted to humiliate you."

"Yes."

"Where was your father when this was happening?"

"He was standing there…behind me."

"So how many other men were there besides him?"

"Four. One was just standing by the door. Two were holding me down and the other was yanking on my pants."

"And your underwear as well?"

"..."

"That must have been embarrassing."

"It all happened kind of fast."

"Meaning…you didn't have time to process it emotionally at the time. But it was thirty-five years ago. I'm asking you _now_ whether it embarrassing."

"..."

"Okay, then what?"

"I heard someone opening the coat closet and I looked over my shoulder and my dad had one of those…you know those things teachers used to use before they came out with laser pointers?"

"Like…a long stick?"

"Yeah. I guess they use them on cadets."

"_Use_ them…you mean for disciplinary purposes?"

"Yes."

"Huh…I didn't know they could do that."

"In the military, they can do anything they want to you. You're like property."

"But you weren't in the military."

"…"

"Right. What did you do when you saw it?"

"I…kind of freaked out."

"I'll bet. You must have been terrified."

"It didn't do a whole lot of good. I mean I was a bean pole and these guys were…"

"Military personnel. So they were in good shape."

"Yeah. So one of them started talking to me, saying stuff like just cooperate and it will go a whole lot faster and it will be over soon. I think he was implying that he'd been in my situation before, not that it was very comforting at the moment."

"Did you cooperate?"

"Not…exactly."

"Explain."

"I struggled."

"Okay…explain in what way you struggled."

"I tried to get away and I kicked and…the other guy came over and got down on the ground and…grabbed my ankles."

"So you couldn't move?"

"Yeah."

"You were outnumbered. Why did you struggle, if you knew it wouldn't do any good?"

"Instinct?"

"Were you afraid?"

"What do you think?"

"I'm asking you."

"Yeah…sure."

"Your father say anything when this was going on?"

"Just…I don't know, the same old shit. He was disappointed. The least I could do was take it like a man, show some dignity."

"How did you feel about those words?"

"I don't remember."

"How do you feel _now_ about them?"

"He…I don't know. I thought he was an asshole."

"Okay, that's not quite a feeling."

"It is for me."

"Did he hit you with the stick?"

"Eventually. But it seemed like a long time before…I mean, it was probably only a couple of minutes."

"Time is relative. What happened when he hit you?"

"I…screamed."

"Involuntarily?"

"Yeah."

"Did you cry?"

"I don't remember."

"You can remember how many men were in the room and what your father said to you, but you can't remember if you cried."

"I probably did."

"Probably."

"…"

"You either cried or you didn't."

"Why does it matter?"

"Why can't you answer the question?"

"I…probably."

"Fine…about how many times did he hit you?"

"I didn't count. It seemed like a lot."

"How many is a lot?"

"Maybe…fifteen, twenty."

"What happened when he was done?"

"The guy who'd been holding my legs let go and went to the coat closet for a first aid kit."

"Were you injured?"

"I don't think so. He just…sprayed some disinfectant on me. But also, I threw up."

"Why do you think you threw up?"

"Physical response to pain?"

"What happened then?"

"The other two men let go of me. One kept a hand on my back while the other guy was spraying me."

"Trying to comfort you."

"I guess."

"Was it a comfort?"

"No."

"What was your dad doing at this point?"

"He put the stick back in the closet…he wanted to go. He yelled at me for throwing up, said I was a disgrace. The officer whose hand was on my back…I remember him telling my dad to just hold on and let me catch my breath."

"What did he say exactly?"

"Something like _he's had enough, John. He's been punished and he's sorry. Why don't you go take a walk and give us a minute?"_

"How did your dad react to having someone else tell him what to do?"

"He looked pissed. Thing is…he was a first sergeant."

"Meaning?"

"He was enlisted. My father outranked him."

"But he called your father by his first name?"

"I think they might have known each other prior to being in the military."

"Why would you think that?"

"My dad…had a very distinct accent."

"Where was he from?"

"Kansas…east."

"And this man spoke that way also?"

"Yeah."

"I find it interesting that you would pick up on something like that, even in a high stress situation. What did your dad do then?"

"First he said that I wasn't sorry, that I'd never been sorry in my life. Then he left the room."

"So he complied, to some extent. How do you feel about that statement, that you've never been sorry?"

"I don't know."

"I think it's interesting that you remember that statement. It was obviously significant to you. _Have_ you ever been sorry? Were you sorry at the time?"

"Yeah."

"How do you communicate that to people? When you hurt someone…a friend or a coworker…when you hurt their feelings or make a mistake, how do you communicate that you're sorry…words?"

"Words are useless."

"Apparently not, if this anecdote is any indication. Can you think of any logical reason why your dad would make that observation about your character?"

"No."

"If you did something wrong and were caught and punished, how likely was that particular event to repeat itself?"

"Depends on what it was."

"So these events _did_ repeat themselves."

"Sometimes."

"So do you think your father's belief that you'd never been sorry might have stemmed from your apparent inability to learn from your mistakes?"

"I don't know."

"Okay…we'll come back to that. What happened after your dad left the room?"

"The guy who had his hand on my back told me to pull up my pants. Then he put his arm around my shoulders and started talking about all the trouble he got into as a kid."

"Trying to relate to you, make you feel better."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Did it make you feel better?"

"No."

"How did you respond?"

"I don't know…I didn't care. I mean, I was like _that's nice. You guys just held me down so my dad could beat me_."

"You said that?"

"No."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. I just…he was like _Greg, we're just trying to help you be a better man. In a few years you'll be on your own and you'll appreciate this discipline. I know your dad is hard on you…but it's for your own good…blah blah blah_."

"Ah…there's that phrase again. _It's for your own good_. Probably you'd have been a bit more receptive had you not spent the past few minutes getting your tail whipped."

"Probably. He walked me back out. But when we got to the lobby he told me to stay put, so he could talk to my dad."

"What did they talk about?"

"I don't know. My dad didn't look happy, not that he ever did. Seemed like they were arguing for a few minutes. Then the other guy looked at me and smiled and waved me towards my dad's car."

"Did your dad say anything?"

"No. He was quiet the whole way home."

"Was that common…the silent treatment? You said before that he'd ignore you."

"Yeah."

"How long did he ignore you that time?"

"The usual…about a week."

"Did he ever bring it up again?"

"No. Which was weird, because usually he would. Things I did, I would never hear the end of it. This he never brought it up again, even when there was a wide open opportunity in the conversation."

"Why do you think this was different?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think it had something to do with the offense itself or the intervention of the...sergeant major?"

"I honestly don't know. We moved a few months after that and I never saw any of those men again."

"Did you ever take your dad's car without asking again?"

"No."

"So…you learned from that mistake?"

"Yes."

"So…the punishment was effective."

"Yeah…well you beat anyone enough and they'll eventually surrender."

"_Did_ you surrender?"

"Sure, _that_ time."

"But in general. Did you surrender your will to your father's authority, or would you say it was more like a constant struggle?"

"Constant struggle."

"Did your dad ever spank you again after that?"

"He threatened to once. But he never did…not after that."

"Why did he threaten you?"

"I don't remember."

"Try _really _hard."

"We were fighting."

"About?"

"College."

"About which college you should attend or just college in general?"

"About me not wanting to enlist. It escalated and I got…belligerent."

"From your tone I assume that it was he who applied that term to your behavior."

"Naturally."

"Do you think you were belligerent?"

"I don't know."

"Greg…enough with the _I don't know_. You have thoughts and opinions and you know what they are. Yes or no. Do you think you were belligerent?"

"Yeah."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then. And how did he phrase that particular threat?"

"He said…I had a lot of nerve speaking to him _that way _and he threatened to take off his belt."

"And what did you do?"

"I…laughed."

"So I take it he didn't follow through."

"No. But I was like…seventeen by then. I was like two inches taller him. He must have realized I was too old."

"And he didn't really have any other way to exercise control over you, besides the threat of violence. I imagine that must have made him feel quite powerless."

"He was anything but powerless. He yelled plenty."

"But did that deter you? Did you listen? Could you be reasoned with?"

"I don't know. Depended on the situation."

"So you respected his authority. You did what you were told, while living in his home, without having to be threatened with violence."

"Not…always."

"Can I ask how you would feel if you got a phone call in the middle of the night and discovered that your son had taken your car and had been arrested?"

"I don't know."

"Would you be angry?"

"Maybe."

"Would you be humiliated?"

"I don't know. That's why I didn't have kids."

"Why?"

"Because…that kind of stuff is inevitable. Kids are idiots."

"So you are on some level acknowledging that it may not have been anymore pleasant to be in your father's position?"

"I'm sure my position was slightly more unpleasant."

"Why?"

"I was the kid."

"You don't think adults have feelings?"

"Adults are not helpless."

"Some are. A few minutes ago, you implied that your mother was helpless."

"Well _he _wasn't."

"Imagine that you had this child to raise, that you weren't one hundred percent sure was even yours, but you were expected to care for him and teach him right from wrong…and he seemed reluctant to listen or behave."

"Yeah…boo hoo. Forgive my lack of sympathy."

"Ah, but I don't think you lack sympathy. I think you are in fact, quite sympathetic. If you genuinely didn't care at all, we wouldn't be sitting here."

"I don't feel sorry for him."

"That doesn't mean you don't acknowledge his suffering."

"Trust me, I was the one doing most of the suffering in that scenario."

"I imagine if you resented authority and were reluctant to learn from your mistakes, that you were suffering quite a bit."

"Yeah…and I imagine we could get my mom on speaker phone to say the same thing. You guys can tag team."

"You feel like I'm against you."

"You're not?"

"My job is address all sides of the situation, even those which you would prefer to ignore. I'm merely pointing out that your dad was a human being, meaning that he wasn't perfect and he may have made mistakes for reasons that you have not considered."

"My dad never made any mistakes."

"He perceived himself to be incapable of error?"

"He was reluctant to admit fault or accept responsibility for anything."

"And who does that sound like to you?"

"Go to hell."

"Why react so strongly to that question?"

"Seriously, go to hell."

"Again…why react so strongly?"

"Because it's bullshit. I never claimed to be perfect."

"But you are quick to blame things on others. Even your feelings you blame on other people. That's a learned behavior."

"I'm _nothing_ like him."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true. He's not even my real father."

"That doesn't mean he didn't have influence over you."

"We were nothing alike."

"You're basing that on the logic that, if you had been more _like him_, perhaps he would have been more accepting of you, been more forthcoming with validation and approval?"

"…"

"You know it tends to be our own faults that we find most frustrating in others."

"Yeah? So what do you find most frustrating in others?"

"It would help you to know that I have faults?"

"No. But it might be interesting."

"Okay…I have a difficult time with procrastination, especially when it comes to household projects. So I am often frustrated when I see that same behavior in my children, in regards to their schoolwork."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want them to experience the difficulties that are associated with that particular shortcoming."

"Huh. No, I guess it wasn't that interesting."

"Do you think it's possible that might apply to you and your father?"

"He was frustrated by pretty much everything."

"That's an unfortunate way to go through life."

"No kidding."

"Can you think of anything in particular that he was especially frustrated by?"

"He didn't like being late."

"And now you deliberately go out of your way to be late. Is it possible those two things are connected?"

"Probably."

"What else was he frustrated by?"

"He…didn't like being questioned."

"Questioned how?"

"If I asked why, he'd say…_because I said so and that's the only explanation you're going to get_."

"So he didn't think it was important for you to understand why you were doing something."

"Apparently not."

"Do you think that might have stemmed from his military training?"

"I'm sure it did."

"And you clearly don't enjoy answering questions yourself, especially those of the _why_ persuasion."

"Not the same kind of questions."

"What kind of questions would you ask, that your father would react adversely to?"

"Like…whenever we moved, I'd ask about where we were going, why we were going there, how long we were going to stay…"

"Do think it's possible that maybe he didn't know the answers to all of those questions and that was actually the source of his frustration?"

"He must have known something, or we wouldn't be moving."

"Not necessarily. Military personnel are often expected to follow orders without explanation. It's possible that he was just doing what he was told and he was every bit as frustrated about having to move as you were."

"If he hated it so much, there were plenty of civilian jobs available to him. He could have been a commercial pilot."

"Maybe that's not what he wanted to do. Maybe he thought what he was doing was important enough to make sacrifices for."

"That's fine, except he wasn't alone."

"You were also expected to make sacrifices, and you didn't get a say in what happened."

"No."

"Did you ever see your father receive orders from a superior?"

"Not really…once or twice."

"And did he appear frustrated?"

"I don't remember."

"What about people giving him advice about something. How did he react to that?"

"Depends on what it was."

"Can you give me an example?"

"Like…he was working on his car one day and this neighbor of ours tried to tell him something. I don't remember the finer details, because I was like four at the time. I just remember him yelling that if he could fix an airplane, he could fix a car. He spent the next few days ranting about what an idiot that guy was."

"Could your dad fix a car?"

"I'm sure he could. But I usually stayed the hell away from him if I saw the hood popped open."

"What about something about which he had absolutely no expertise?"

"He didn't like being corrected. Even if it was something he didn't know anything about."

"Like what?"

"He was smart. But he wasn't…educated. He'd say things…that were historically or scientifically inaccurate and he didn't like being corrected."

"I take it you discovered that by attempting to correct him. How did you come across such a wealth of knowledge so early in life?"

"I read a lot of books."

"And which do you think your father placed more value on, education or experience?"

"Experience."

"What about the man at the police station…the sergeant. You said he corrected your father."

"Not really corrected…more like made a suggestion."

"But you said he reacted adversely."

"Well I think he was kind of already pissed off."

"Perhaps that was why the suggestion was being made."

"Maybe."

"And the conversation they had while you were waiting in the lobby…if you had to speculate, what do you think they were talking about?"

"I don't know."

"Try."

"He was probably reminding my dad that if he murdered me, he wouldn't be able to claim me as a dependent on his income tax return."


	2. Sixty Minutes: Part 2

_Continues exactly where the last chapter left off. Cut due to word count._

* * *

"So you think your dad actually wanted to kill you?"

"That's what it looked like."

"Did he _look_ like that often?"

"Yeah."

"Well you're still alive. So do you think it's possible that you misinterpreted that facial expression?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"He's…he killed other people."

"In a state of war."

"Supposedly."

"So you have reason to believe that he'd have taken your life, if he'd deemed it necessary."

"Yes."

"Did he ever threaten to kill you?"

"Not…directly."

"How old were you when you became aware that your father had killed people?"

"Maybe...five?"

"How did you find out?"

"I'd overheard him talking about it."

"With whom?"

"Other officers."

"What were they saying."

"They'd…brag."

"So they were proud."

"Seemed like it."

"I think…that at the age of five, being in possession of that knowledge alone would be traumatic. I imagine that it colored your interpretation of your father's words and actions quite a bit. Did you ever talk to him about it yourself?"

"About…Vietnam?"

"Sure."

"No."

"The opportunity never came up?"

"I never had any desire to."

"You were afraid."

"I just…never had any desire to."

"Okay…back to the um…police station. What happened that day in the interrogation room, would you say that was the most severe discipline you'd ever received?"

"Severe as in what?"

"As in…physically painful, let's say."

"I…guess."

"You're not sure? What did your father use to discipline you before that?"

"He…I don't know what you mean."

"I mean when he wasn't yelling or ignoring you, I assume he hit you with some object."

"Sometimes."

"What was it?"

"Belt…usually."

"So not always. What else did he use?"

"Paddle."

"Like a ping pong or a like a fraternity paddle?"

"No…it was kind of in between, size wise. I think he made it in school or something, because it had his initials on it. I once heard my mom say his dad used it on him when he was a kid. But I never got any confirmation of that. It looked…old. It got mysteriously misplaced during one of our many moves."

"Did you have anything to do with that?"

"Possibly."

"And nothing else?"

"No."

"He used those on the seat of your pants?"

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes. So other times it wasn't on the seat of your pants.

"Uh huh."

"How did you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"About having to bare yourself in order to be disciplined."

"It was…you know."

"No, I don't know. I wasn't there. You were. That's why I'm asking _you_."

"I don't know."

"Was it scary?"

"…"

"Was it humiliating? Did you resent him because of it?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you just say that?"

"I don't exactly…enjoy talking about this subject."

"I figured. Which means that you probably haven't talked about it…ever. Meaning whatever deep seated issues you have as a result have gone unaddressed for thirty-five years or more."

"Great. Well by all means, let's dig those puppies up."

"So you resented him. How would he go about his business?"

"What business?"

"Communicating that you were going to be punished, or the manner in which it was going to be carried out."

"Why does that matter?"

"I'm trying to determine in what specific way this experience traumatized you."

"Oh brother…I never said it was _traumatic_."

"It wasn't?"

"…"

"Humor me, Greg."

"Fine…whatever. He usually just told me."

"_Told_ you. And you complied."

"Yes."

"What would happen if you didn't comply?"

"I don't know."

"You never found out because you always complied."

"…"

"This was out of fear, I assume."

"Yeah."

"Would he take you over his knee to do this?"

"…"

"Is that a _no?"_

"Why do you need to know that?"

"Parents who spank over the knee are generally affectionate and tend to form a meaningful, emotional connection with their child. Those who don't tend to be more…detached and have issues with intimacy."

"Well I think you just answered your own question there, doc."

"So what position _did_ you take?"

"Depended on where we were living."

"Give me an example."

"When we were in Virginia, we had a basement. There was a couch down there."

"Okay…and?"

"And…we'd use that."

"Use it _how?"_

"…"

"Okay…we'll skip that particular detail. So he told you to do…_whatever_ and you complied readily."

"I complied."

"Not readily. Would you put up a fight?"

"Sometimes."

"How?"

"I…resisted."

"_How?"_

"Is there a point to this interrogation?"

"Yes. So?"

"…"

"Alright, we'll definitely come back to _that_. About how many times would he hit you?"

"Depends."

"Ballpark figure."

"Ten or twenty."

"Was it ever more or less than that?"

"Maybe…a couple times."

"How many more or less?"

"Let's say…as little as five and no more than thirty."

"How was that number determined?"

"My dad's mood."

"So it wasn't in any way related to the severity of the offense? It was completely arbitrary."

"No…I don't know. Maybe."

"How hard did he hit you, compared to what happened at the police station?"

"I didn't...have any instruments handy to measure force or velocity."

"But you can tell me if it was less or more that what happened at the police station."

"Less."

"But it was still hard enough to be painful."

"It was…hard enough to sting."

"Did it leave any sort of mark?"

"Sometimes."

"Did they ever last more than a few hours?"

"Maybe. I don't remember. I didn't exactly go out of my way to look or time it."

"So again…you complied, but not readily. How did that play out?"

"It depended on the situation."

"So give me a for instance."

"I don't…this is really…"

"Embarrassing. I know. That's why we're talking about it."

"So you _want_ to humiliate me? Wonderful."

"Once again, projecting. I don't _want _to humiliate you. I want to relieve you of that humiliation."

"By making me talk about it."

"Those things only continue to embarrass you because you refuse to address them. When you talk about them, they become real. The humiliation, the shame, all of those unpleasant emotions that you insist on not allowing yourself to acknowledge or feel become real and they can be examined in a different context."

"What context?"

"That which is in the present, where you are now. These things happened when you were a child and were for some reason traumatic. If you keep those memories to yourself, then that part of you will forever remain a child. You can only evolve that particular aspect of yourself if you…talk about it, bring it out into the open and discuss it. Then it doesn't seem quite so embarrassing. Things you've been ashamed of, can no longer control you."

"They don't _control _me."

"If you can't discuss them without feeling physically uncomfortable, they're controlling you. So…how did you go about resisting your father's efforts to discipline you?"

"I already told you, I don't want to talk about this."

"I know that. But we're going to."

"You can't…_make_ me."

"Hmm…thus taking us back to my initial statement."

"Which?"

"About your resistance. About…why you'd prefer to drag something out than get it over with."

"It's not the same thing."

"It's _exactly_ the same thing. Someone is making you do something you don't want to do, that will probably be unpleasant, but on some level you know you need."

"You think I _needed_ my dad to hit me?"

"Not necessarily. But it sounds like he never spanked you without reason. You were by your own admission a difficult child. You clearly stated that he only disciplined you in response to specific offenses."

"Yeah, it's _all_ my fault."

"There's that fault again. There's no fault here, Greg. There's…a combination of your strong willed personality with your father's intolerant brand of authority. When you mix ammonia and bleach, what do you get?"

"Mustard gas."

"It's toxic, right?"

"Yeah."

"And who is to blame for that toxicity, the ammonia or the bleach?"

"Both…neither."

"Exactly. But the result is the same. Together you and your dad were like…chemical warfare."

"That's one way to describe it."

"See…the thing about this is…I think it was you father's approach and his motivation that were flawed. He was detached from you emotionally. There was no affection or encouragement going on. It's possible he thought he was doing what was best for you. But the fact that you were aware at such a young age that you were resented, tells me that his attitude towards you was probably not open or loving. Usually when child has that connection or that bond with a parent, there's an inherent desire to please, one that usually blossoms if rewarded with positive reinforcement. They will kick and scream and cry. But because of that reinforcement, on some level they will sense that the spanking or whatever method of correction is for their own good and therefore it won't emotionally scar them or create a significant barrier between them and their parent. This…confusion was never sorted out and has therefore extended into your adulthood."

"Confusion?"

"I mean…anyone who attempts to correct you, or interfere in any way with your agenda, is perceived to be a threat. Even if you know that your agenda is flawed in some way, you can't bear interference from another party. Everything has to be done on your own terms. You can't tell the difference between those who are genuinely trying to help you and those who mean you harm, because you have no accurate frame of reference. You can only interpret the desire to correct you as invalidation, rejection or subterfuge."

"How is wanting to correct me _not_ invalidating?"

"You don't think there's anything about you that needs correcting? You made a similar observation about your father a few minutes ago."

"How do you expect me to reply to that?"

"Honestly."

"…"

"Everyone needs improvement."

"Some more than others, though. Otherwise there wouldn't be two sides to that great, big desk of yours."

"Okay. But right now we're working on you. You've been here for almost a month."

"So?"

"You only recently agreed to participate in substance abuse groups, despite the fact that we already had a toxicology report and liver function tests confirming that you were an alcoholic, as well as dependent on an opiod pain medication. You went through several days of very painful withdrawals as a result of those addictions."

"It would have been slightly less painful if you guys had knocked me out like you were supposed to."

"According to your chart, they gave you a haloperidol to manage your symptoms."

"Not enough to knock me out."

"There was risk of respiratory distress."

"They could have intubated."

"And risk of aspiration, cardiac arrest and hypertensive crisis…which could lead to a stroke. It was important to keep you conscious, which I know that you know. But instead you think we just wanted you to suffer. You don't think that had anything to do with wanting to clear your body of the toxins that were harming it. You think you were being punished for having addictions."

"Yeah. What a far fetched concept. They strapped me to a bed and let me scream and vomit and soil myself for three days."

"You were being very closely monitored. Detox unit is two nurses per patient, twenty-four hours a day. That's more attention than you'll get at some high end beauty salons."

"Monitored for what, misery? The most I could get out of the nurse was ice chips."

"Because that's all they could give you, besides the IV fluids."

"And the only antiemetic they would give me was a rectal suppository."

"Promethazine is usually administered orally and you were vomiting."

"They could have given me a patch."

"They could have. But drugs administered rectally are also absorbed into the bloodstream more quickly, meaning relief comes sooner. Or do you think they just wanted to humiliate you?"

"..."

"So you denied yourself relief, because you couldn't bear the idea of allowing a medical professional to insert something into your rectum, a procedure I assume you've done on countless patients over the past twenty years."

"I took it."

"You did."

"Because I was desperate."

"Okay. Did it help with the nausea?"

"Not really."

"Not even a little bit?"

"A little."

"So you did benefit from it."

"…"

"You're not here because you're being punished for your addictions. You're here to work through your issues."

"I don't have any issues."

"You…have a _lot_ of issues."

"Yeah…that wasn't invalidating."

"Greg…I stated a fact. I don't believe I expressed an opinion."

"I have a lot of issues? How is that _not _an opinion?"

"So does everyone. So do I. It's just happens that you've reached a point where you cannot manage them all. You were hallucinating when you were admitted. You had to be detoxed of alcohol and opiates before we could even start treating your psychosis. Your said your father died eight months ago, at which point you got your first official confirmation that he was not your biological relative. One of your employees shot themselves in the head five months ago. You've got established sleep disturbances, insomnia, night terrors, possible seizure like activity. You're severely depressed, to the point where you're completely disinterested in your own recovery. Since you've been here, you've tongued your meds on several occasions…that we _know_ of, to trade with other patients for miscellaneous things. You've started two physical altercations with other patients, punched an orderly and had to be restricted to the quiet room on four separate occasions, one of which was overnight, because you refused to calm down without the aid of sedatives."

"Yeah, I'm a real winner."

"Is that your goal here?"

"What?"

"To convince us that you're a loser? Why would you want to do that?"

"That job kind of does itself."

"No, I don't think so. I do not look at you and see a loser. I see someone who is actively trying to fail, because he's afraid of recovery, of success, of feeling better."

"I'm not afraid."

"Then why resist?"

"Because it wouldn't work."

"You don't know that."

"But you do. You know everything."

"I don't know everything, Greg. But I do know some things that you don't. Why does that bother you?"

"It doesn't."

"I think that you resist recovery because it has to be maintained. If by some chance you manage to find happiness or hope…well that's a very dangerous place to be. You could lose it. You've got nowhere to go but down. But if you stay miserable, there's no risk involved. There's nowhere to go but up. Anything good that gets tossed your way is a bonus, something temporary that you don't have to invest yourself in for more than a few minutes, hours or days."

"I've never been happy. I doubt there's anything you guys can do to change that."

"But again…you don't know. You haven't actually tried, not really. You faked your way through rehab in 2006. Until you came here, you never voluntarily submitted yourself to any physical therapy regimen for your handicap. The one alternative treatment plan you attempted, was abandoned after eight days."

"I wasn't thinking straight."

"You're on the methadone now. You seem quite lucid to me."

"I don't have to _do _anything here."

"You don't think we're doing something?"

"It's not the same as…diagnosing patients."

"You think you can only do that successfully if you're in pain?"

"It helps me focus."

"So those years you spent in college, in medical school, practicing medicine prior to the infarction, that was all just…what? You got by on your charm and good looks? Were you just waiting until there happened to be a blood clot in your thigh, so you could fulfill your true potential?"

"You're mocking me."

"I'm pointing out the holes in your logic. You're afraid of success."

"I already told you…"

"That you're not afraid. And you're lying. Because if it worked, if you didn't need the drugs, if you could manage your pain without destroying your body and socially isolating yourself, well that could be great. But then…you could also lose it again, like you did when the ketamine treatment wore off."

"That…was a pipe dream."

"For males in your age group…it's successful about forty percent of the time."

"Lucky for them."

"There seems to be a connection between those who are depressed and those for whom the treatment does not work."

"You think I have a conversion disorder. Been talking to Wilson?"

"I know your pain is real. I even have a PET scan that says it is."

"Right."

"But I think you let it control you. I think if you were happier, had a more fulfilling existence, then you might see a dramatic decrease in your pain. Your mood…controls everything. I know you know this. The drugs…are just a safety net. Addiction isn't born out of a desire to drink or do drugs. It's born out of the knowledge that pleasure is temporary, that the only guarantee in life is suffering. So why not take whatever you can grab, when you can grab it?"

"You're not exactly making a great case for sobriety, doc."

"I'm trying to help you understand why you do what you do. Because as brilliant as you are, you seem rather oblivious. And you attach a number of rather biased stigmas to your actions in the process."

"What stigmas?"

"The fact that you are an addict, for instance. You seem to think this implies something about your morality."

"You don't?"

"I think it implies that you are human. But you're deeply ashamed of your addictions. So you transfer that shame onto other people. That way it's about them disapproving of you and you don't have to own it. Then you flaunt your vices in their face, in the hope that it will appear that you don't care."

"I'm not _ashamed_."

"Then why admit the Vicodin on your intake form, but not the alcohol? Because the Vicodin was justified. You have a legitimate, medical excuse. Your use was excessive, but still within the realm of legal and explainable. But the alcohol…has no explanation that wouldn't inculpate you."

"I didn't realize that I drank that much."

"Seriously? You're a doctor. Look me in the eye and tell me that you _really_ didn't think it would be an issue."

"..."

"You can't."

"..."

"How often did you drink?"

"I wasn't charting it."

"Every day?"

"…"

"How much?"

"…"

"How much, Greg?"

"Usually beer with dinner, maybe a glass or two of Scotch before bed."

"To fall asleep."

"Yeah."

"Every day?"

"…"

"How long have you been doing that?"

"I don't know. Since…I don't know."

"Since the leg?"

"Yeah."

"Did it help?"

"It used to."

"When did it stop helping?"

"I don't know…a while…I don't know."

"And how do you feel about being labeled an alcoholic?"

"I wouldn't put it on my resume."

"Or your intake form apparently. You didn't state that you were a heavy drinker. You didn't even state that you _were_ a drinker. You could have died before your attending figured it out."

"They did labs upon admittance."

"So you were okay with them figuring it out, as long as you didn't have to tell them."

"…"

"Maybe you don't care if you die."

"Maybe not."

"So you'd let yourself die, before you'd swallow your pride and admit you don't have it all together.

"I never said I had it all together. I admitted I was an addict, just like you guys wanted."

"But you didn't admit the alcoholism at first, and it doesn't mean anything if you don't believe it."

"I believe it, okay? I mean, do you seriously think I don't realize what a pathetic fucking junkie I am? You really think I need to be told?"

"Once again, you're projecting. I never said you were a junkie, nor did I imply that you were pathetic. I want you to recognize your situation. I want you to own your problems and related emotions, instead of deflecting, projecting and transferring. I want you to accept help without thinking it's a plot to undermine you. I want you to realize that right now, the only person who's really undermining you is _you_."

"Just what the hell do you think you could do for me?"

"Talk, Greg. You've got to talk to me. This is not a game. I am not your opponent. You will gain nothing by fighting me. I want to help you."

"And if I talk about this shit, what do you think is going to change?"

"You will. I know you don't believe it. I know you think you're so different, so special, so exempt, to the point that it disqualifies you as a mere mortal. But I've been doing this a long time. I promise that if you talk to me, you will eventually feel better. It will help. It won't hurt so much, and you _are_ hurting. If you open up those problems to someone else, they won't weigh you down quite so much."

"Why would you want any part of my problems?"

"Because that is what I do. Because…that is what we have in common, Greg. We are both here for you."

"So it's just…altruism. You want to save every lost soul that drifts into your domain?"

"Does that diminish the value of my intentions? Or do you just need to believe that the only people who could care about you are the ones who care about everyone? You're looking for some objective way to measure how much you matter in the grand scheme of things, something that can't be disputed? No one has that, Greg. We have to decide that for ourselves."

"Right."

"What's important to you? What's worth saving? What would you risk your pride to preserve?"

"At the moment, I don't know."

"Your job?"

"I said…_I don't know_."

"What about relationships?"

"What _about _them?"

"Which relationships are most important to you?"

"I don't have any."

"None. You have _no_ relationships? What about James Wilson?"

"What about him?"

"He's your best friend."

"Sometimes."

"And…when is he _not_ your best friend?"

"When there's something more important or interesting going on in his life, or when I prove to be an inconvenience."

"Like what would be more important, for instance?"

"Like…whichever unfortunate warm, wet place he happens to be sticking his dick into at the moment."

"I know that he's been married and divorced several times. Would you say he's promiscuous?"

"No…he's not…he just likes sex."

"I see. This specifically interferes with your relationship?"

"He likes…saving needy people. He just happens to do it with his penis."

"So…that's bad? Or do you just want to be the only needy person he's trying to save?"

"Wilson's _penis_ is powerless against my issues."

"Meaning..."

"He couldn't save me, even if he wanted to."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't want to."

"Trust me, he doesn't."

"So you don't like competing with anyone for your friend's attention. Why?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"Why don't you just tell me what you think I think? That way I won't have to talk."

"Okay…I think that you believe James cares about someone else as much as he cares about you, that somehow diminishes your value."

"Wilson cares about everyone."

"Was that an affirmative?"

"I'm pleading the fifth amendment."

"I see. What about an inconvenience? In what way are you an inconvenience to James?"

"Well you know…he was prescribing Vicodin for me for ten years."

"I assume that was by choice."

"You would never have known it."

"Uh huh. But you are also an adult. You could have ended that scenario as well. Or was it that you couldn't find another physician who would be willing to give you opiates for a long term pain problem?"

"We both know you don't need a doctor to get drugs."

"So you could have obtained them illegally, yet you continued to allow James to prescribe. If you were unhappy with that scenario, why not change it?"

"I guess I figured that if Wilson hated it so much, he'd cut me off eventually."

"Did he?"

"He did a few times. But not permanently, no."

"James has trouble establishing boundaries with the important people in his life."

"…"

"That's funny?"

"No."

"You seem amused."

"I'm not...important."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true."

"I hadn't spoken to him in over three years. He called me at home to ask me about having you admitted."

"So?"

"So, you don't think that means you're important?"

"Define _important_."

"He _said_ that it was important. He used the word _important_. He seemed quite adamant."

"It."

"What?"

"_It_ was important; not me."

"We had no openings and he resurrected a twenty year old debt of mine to urge me to make room for you."

"Everyone's indebted to Wilson in one way or another. He's like…Jesus with a pocket protector."

"Because he's such a nice guy who wants to help everyone?"

"Yep."

"It wasn't that kind of debt."

"What kind of debt was it?"

"I'll allow you to speculate in your free time. I know how much you love a mystery."

"You're so good to me."

"Bottom line…you obviously matter quite a bit to him, based on whatever scale he happens to use for measuring importance."

"Sure _now_…he's single."

"So you think as soon as he starts dating someone new, you will cease to be important?"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Tell me about that."

"About what?"

"Tell me about the last time James was in a relationship and how you ceased to be important as a result. I know he's divorced now. Has he been in any relationships since then?"

"Yeah."

"How long did that last?"

"Four months."

"And they broke up?"

"No. I killed her."

"You..._murdered _her?"

"No…it was an accident."

"How did that happen?"

"I'm sure Wilson told you."

"He told me his girlfriend passed away. But he didn't give me any details. I didn't realize that was the only woman he'd dated since his divorce."

"There was another woman. But it was fairly temporary."

"Why?"

"She was...nearing expiration."

"One of his patients?"

"If I say _yes_, are you going to report him?"

"Is she already dead?"

"Yeah."

"Then legally I cannot."

"Yeah, it was one of his patients."

"So…how did this _accident_ take place?"

"I was drinking at a bar, and I called Wilson for a ride home."

"Is that a frequent occurrence?"

"Me drinking at a bar or me needing a ride home?"

"Either."

"Yeah…but he wasn't there. So _she_ picked up."

"Who's she?"

"Wilson's girlfriend."

"I mean…what's her name?"

"Amber."

"Okay…so let's use it. You called James for a ride home and _Amber _answered."

"Wilson was working apparently. I told her to let him know when he came home, that I needed a ride. She said she would.

"But she didn't?"

"She…showed up at the bar about thirty minutes later. She didn't bother calling him. Or maybe she did and he was in surgery, or she left a message and he didn't reply in time."

"So she gave you a ride home."

"No…she…I was already pretty drunk. So I asked her to stay for a drink."

"Were you interested in her?"

"You mean romantically?"

"Yes."

"She was attractive. But I wasn't…attracted. I mean she was like half my age for one thing. And she was spoken for."

"So that means something to you."

"What does?"

"The concept of fidelity."

"I wouldn't do that to Wilson."

"Interesting. But she agreed to have a drink with you."

"She had one. I…didn't want to go home with her though."

"Why not?"

"I…didn't ask her to come get me."

"So…you needed a ride home and she was offering you one. Why not accept?"

"Like I said, I didn't ask her."

"You interpreted the fact that she showed up on her boyfriend's behalf as a declaration of ownership over him. She was asserting her dominance."

"See? You don't need me to talk."

"What happened when you refused to go with her?"

"I told her I'd take the bus."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I bailed. She paid the bartender. I figured she'd tell me later what I owed her."

"You let her pay your tab?"

"I was trying to create a distraction."

"I'm fascinated by your selective morality."

"Meaning?"

"You've stated that you wouldn't pursue Amber even if you wanted to, because she was spoken for…and you implied that you'd rather not get James into any legal trouble, by revealing that he'd slept with one of his patients. But you'd stick someone with your bar tab."

"I just thought it would be sufficient to distract her."

"I understand your reasoning. I just find it interesting."

"I wanted to get on the bus before she could stop me."

"Something tells me you didn't."

"She followed me onto the bus."

"I see. Why do you think she did that?"

"I forgot my cane in the bar."

"You didn't notice that you were limping?"

"I was drunk."

"So you were already uncoordinated. Why do you think she felt the need to bring you the cane?"

"I don't know."

"Did she say?"

"I asked her if she was doing it for him or for me."

"_Him_…you mean James? What did she say?"

"She said it was for him."

"Did that bother you?"

"…"

"How did these particular events lead to her death?"

"A few blocks later, a garbage truck hit the bus. She…was injured, kidneys damaged. And she'd been taking Amantadine for her flu, which a lot of doctors do…probably because she couldn't afford to miss any work."

"So the drugs were toxic, once the kidneys could no longer filter them out of her blood."

"Yeah."

"Were you injured as well? There's an MVA and a TBI listed in your history from May of 2008. Was that it?"

"Yeah…I fractured my temporal bone."

"Did you experience any adverse effects from that injury?"

"For a while I had headaches and sleep issues."

"Night terrors are common after concussion. Nothing permanent?"

"Not that I know of."

"How do you feel about what you just told me?"

"About what?"

"About being implicated in this woman's death."

"I don't know…shitty. I don't know."

"How did James react when he realized that you and Amber had been on the bus together?"

"Before he knew she was going to die, he…seemed to think that I was interested in her."

"Why do you think he thought that?"

"Because in his mind…there was no other logical explanation for why we'd have been together."

"James has a history of infidelity, which I mention only because I know that you're already aware. But cheaters tend to project…assume that because they've been unfaithful, everyone else has the potential to be as well. It's how they rationalize their actions."

"So why assume that _I'm_ the guilty party? Why not her?"

"Because you were the male in that scenario. Based on his own experiences, he perceives the female to be an innocent bystander, merely a victim of his uncontrolled desires."

"That's…fairly twisted."

"It is. But you interpreted that as a lack of trust."

"How is it _not _a lack of trust?"

"Someone who doesn't trust themselves can't trust anyone else. Does James trust himself?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"How did he react when he discovered that Amber wasn't going to make it?"

"I wasn't conscious."

"Because of the head injury?"

"Sort of. When I came to…on the bus, I couldn't remember how I'd gotten there. All the other passengers had already been removed. I just kind of wandered off and ended up in this bar."

"You'd just come from a bar. So that setting was familiar. You just got up and walked away, no medical attention?"

"Yeah. But…I had this feeling…someone was going to die."

"So you didn't remember that Amber had come to pick you up or followed you onto the bus. But your subconscious latched onto that information, because it was important."

"I went back outside again and saw the wreckage."

"So you realized there'd been an accident. How long was it before you were able to remember the finer details?"

"I…used hypnosis to try to recover my memory."

"Who hypnotized you?"

"Former fellow."

"So immediately following the accident, you went to the hospital where you worked? How did you get there?"

"I took a cab."

"Was the hypnosis effective?"

"Sort of. I remembered that I'd been drinking. But I didn't figure out where or how I'd ended up on the bus or that Amber had been with me until later…I rounded up a bunch of people to reenact the accident."

"And _that_ helped you to remember? Fascinating."

"I...also used physostigmine to enhance my memory retrieval."

"Um...I can't imagine what doctor would have approved such questionable off label use of a very strong, psychoactive drug."

"They didn't. I just…signed them out for a fictitious patient."

"Right. How exactly did you go about reenacting an accident that you couldn't even remember?"

"It was…the arrangement of the passengers that was significant."

"It was successful, then."

"I went into cardiac arrest."

"Because of the physostigmine."

"Yeah."

"But were obviously revived, having recalled the events that led to your injury."

"Yeah."

"So when you realized who had been with you on the bus, what happened then?"

"She'd been taken to a different hospital. She'd severed her femoral. They repaired that and the kidney damage. But she was having heart issues…"

"Because of the Amantadine?"

"Yeah…but I didn't figure that out until later. Because I couldn't remember and Wilson didn't even know she was taking it…or any of the other drugs she was on for that matter."

"What other drugs _was_ she on?"

"Just…antidepressants and diet pills."

"How did you figure that out, tox screen?"

"I had my fellows search their apartment."

"_Their_…so she and James were living together."

"Yeah."

"How did you eventually recall that she'd taken the Amantadine? I know you're observant. But you must have actually watched her take it, seen the label to know what it was."

"I saw her take it when we were on the bus."

"And you remembered_ that_ with the aid of physostigmine?"

"I...recalled it via Deep brain stimulation."

"Wait…like they use for Parkinson's? Who approved _that _procedure?"

"Not…we didn't really ask for approval."

"Who's _we?"_

"Wilson and I and…the former fellow who conducted the hypnosis."

"So you let them drill a hole in your skull, which was already cracked, in order to remember something that you didn't know for sure would even aid your diagnosis. Why?"

"Wilson…asked."

"That was _his _idea?"

"No. A fellow of mine suggested it…earlier. We dismissed it in favor of the hypnosis."

"And James was aware of your current injuries."

"Yes."

"Did he acknowledge the potential risk?"

"He…sort of."

"How did he acknowledge that?"

"When he came to me with the request, I asked him if he thought I should risk my life to save Amber's."

"Those exact words?"

Yes."

"And what did he say?"

"Yes."

"How did you feel about his response?"

"I don't know."

"Did you expect him to say _no?"_

"I don't know."

"Why did you agree to do it?"

"It was my fault she was on the bus. I figured…maybe I could save her. And if I couldn't…"

"You figured it would buy you leverage, that you'd be responsible for her death, but you 'd also have been self sacrificing, this proving the extent of your friend's importance."

"Something like that."

"So what happened once you'd successfully retrieved the information you needed to diagnose her?"

"I seized…there was some bleeding. They repaired it endoscopically."

"And when you woke up from surgery, what then? Was Amber already dead? How did James react to the fact that you could have also died?"

"Uh…he weaned her off of anesthesia to say goodbye. I didn't wake up until a few hours later. He…came by my room once, just peeked in."

"He didn't say anything to you?"

"No."

"What did he say to you when you saw him next?"

"He took eight weeks off from work."

"So you didn't see him until you returned? Did you speak on the phone?"

"He never…he didn't call."

"Why didn't you just call him?"

"I was advised not to."

"By whom?"

"My boss."

"Would you have called otherwise?"

"I don't know."

"So what did he say to you when he returned to work, after the eight weeks?"

"He didn't talk to me."

"But you must have spoken to each other at some point."

"I…went to his office and the first thing he told me was that he was quitting."

"And how did you react to that?"

"I told him he was being stupid."

"Did you express any regret for the unfortunate circumstances?"

"I told him I was sorry at the time."

"Before you seized."

"Yeah."

"How did he react to your apology?"

"I don't remember. I don't think he said anything."

"And how did you react to the idea of him leaving? I imagine you were not oblivious to the cause and effect there."

"I…tried to bargain with him."

"Bargain how?"

"I don't know…I just didn't…He was upset."

"Did you make any attempt to help him deal with his grief?"

"I'm not…good at that sort of thing."

"That's doesn't mean you couldn't try."

"I just…I couldn't fathom trying to comfort him in his grief, when I was the cause of it."

"Did you tell him that?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think he would have believed you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"He just wouldn't."

"So you simply disregarded his grief."

"Sort of. More like…mocked."

"Go with what you know."

"Exactly."

"How did he react to your mockery?"

"He…was angry. He eventually cleaned out his office and left."

"He didn't say anything else?"

"He…told me that we were no longer friends. He said maybe…we'd never been."

"What justification did he offer for that statement?"

"He…said that I was surrounded by misery."

"So he didn't actually say that it was a result of your implication in Amber's death."

"I think that was kind of a given."

"Not necessarily. Considering the timing, there was definitely a connection. But I'm sure there were other factors. That must have been very difficult to hear. How did that make you feel?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"…"

"Did you make any attempt to challenge him or question the basis for his observation?"

"I hired a PI."

"You...to do _what?"_

"To…see how Wilson was doing."

"And how _was_ he doing?"

"He was in all kinds of group therapy."

"Did you make any attempt to contact him during that time?"

"I showed up at his place once…no idea why."

"Because you missed him and you were craving absolution."

"He told me to leave him alone. Thing is, he tried to claim it was the hospital. He didn't want to see anyone who reminded him of Amber. But he was accepting calls and visits from other people."

"Which other people?"

"Pretty much anyone who wasn't me."

"Well that was obviously a lie. Although I find it interesting that he'd say something as hurtful as he did, but then attempt to spare your feelings by giving you the impression that he was avoiding everyone and not just you."

"He wasn't trying to _spare_ my feelings."

"Does that mean you're admitting that you have some?"

"…"

"If he avoided you during the eight weeks he was gone, then it's doubtful he worked through any of the issues that were bothering him. So even though he'd taken that time to grieve, he probably just spent it trying to avoid thinking about Amber's death and still wasn't ready to confront you. He was quitting in order to postpone confronting you indefinitely."

"..."

"You still haven't told me how that made you feel."

"How what made me feel?"

"His statement about your friendship."

"I don't know."

"You do know. If I have to get out a thesaurus and list off every adjective, we're going to figure out what you're feeling."

"Like…crap."

"That's a noun…but it's a start. Why did you feel _like crap_?"

"I…he was…I don't know…I don't want to talk about this."

"Okay. This is wearing you out, obviously. Let's try this. I want you to imagine that James is here, standing in front of you, and we're reliving that moment. He's telling you that he's leaving. He's ending your relationship and you need to tell him how that makes you feel."

"I told him…I felt like crap."

"Those exact words?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, but now you're getting a second take. You've had over a year to think about it. So…can you do better?"

"What difference does it make? It's not real. It won't change anything."

"It will change something. It will change how you feel."

"I don't know what the hell you want me to say."

"I want you to tell me about what it's like to be indirectly responsible for someone's death…as a result of something that was completely out of your control. I want you to tell me what it feels like to know that you caused someone pain, someone you care about, even if you didn't mean to. I want you to tell me what it's like to lose a friend."

"It sucks."

"Okay…more."

"There's…it just sucks. That's not good enough?"

"You can't tell me how it _sucks?"_

"It's…like...I don't know."

"You had a thought. Let's hear it."

"It's like there's nothing else. It's like…that's all I am."

"What is?"

"I mean, killing her. It's like…that's all there is to me now…like nothing else matters."

"You feel like your entire life is now defined by that mistake."

"..."

"But you didn't _kill _her."

"Yeah…I kind of did."

"…"

"I mean, there's no point in sugar coating it. It wouldn't make her less dead."

"But you didn't mean for it to happen."

"Does it matter? I mean, does it really matter? She's still dead."

"And you're sorry it happened."

"Of course."

"And how did you communicate that remorse?"

"I already told you."

"You told him you felt _like crap_."

"Yes."

"But he didn't interpret that as an apology."

"Obviously not."

"Greg…it seems like there is a massive discrepancy between how you actually feel and how people think you feel. I'm wondering if you might have any idea why that is."

"People…make assumptions."

"Like your father?"

"Yeah."

"And what do you think those assumptions are based on?"

"I don't know."

"You do, Greg. You do know."

"Observation."

"Observation of what?"

"Of…my behavior."

"What else?"

"My attitude?"

"Houston…we have lift off."

"Oh, bite me."

"I think it's important that you've finally acknowledged some personal responsibility."

"You think I don't know that all my problems are my fault? You think I need you to tell me that?"

"Again with the fault. Being responsible is not the same as being _at fault_. It means you realize which of your thoughts and actions have contributed to whatever state you are currently in. I don't think you need me to tell you what your problems are, or what mistakes you've made. I think you need me to tell you that they _don't_ define you. Because you don't seem to know that. I think you need me to tell you that you're not who or what other people say you are. I think you need me to remind you that asking for help does not equate to failure."

"It does if it doesn't work."

"If you don't try, you can't fail. But you also can't succeed."

"Right."

"I'm pleased, Greg. I think this has been our most productive session yet."

"I'm overjoyed."

"_That_, I would pay to see."

"I'll bet."

"So…same time tomorrow?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Would it help if I said _no?"_

"It might."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Greg."

"Whatever."


	3. Another Sixty Minutes

_Dr. Nolan plays a game with House, to get him to share. _

_If the idea of House being physically attracted to Wilson bothers you, don't read this._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"I thought we'd play a game today."

"Hmm…I thought you said therapy _wasn't_ a game."

"This is a question game."

"You're sending me mixed messages. You know that, right? I'm very confused. Now if I freak out now, it will be all your fault."

"I want to get to know you better."

"No, you don't."

"So I'm going to try and make it more interesting for you."

"Not possible."

"Months ago, before you came here, in one of our big group sessions, we handed out index cards to everyone."

"And you raffled off Nurse Allen's panties."

"They were asked to write down questions they'd rather not answer, if asked by a stranger."

"Why the hell would they volunteer that kind of information?"

"To overcome their fears."

"You help them overcome their fears by…making them do something they don't want to do? That might work with…spiders and clowns."

"No. The questions were submitted anonymously. Then they were able to pick from other people's questions…find something they _would_ be willing to answer."

"That's...stupid."

"The point was...by seeing someone else choose to answer those questions, they would in turn be more comfortable doing so themselves."

"And that actually worked?"

"For quite a few people, yes."

"So you want me to pick a question out of this stack."

"Yes."

"What if I say _no?"_

"That's the beauty of this game. You have no reason to say no."

"I can't wait to hear this. Is there food involved?"

"I will also pick a card."

"_Why_ would you want to do that?"

"Because whatever I pick for myself, you will also have to answer…and vice versa."

"So…you could totally humiliate me…but then I could totally humiliate you too."

"Exactly."

"And you'd just…tell me your embarrassing secrets? Isn't there some kind of rule against that?"

"Actually no. There are laws to prevent me from sharing anything discussed here with any other party. But there's no law specifically preventing me from sharing with you."

"Lucky me. And what if there's nothing in that stack I'd be willing to answer?"

"I'm sure there will be. You see…what you're candid about isn't necessarily what other people are candid about. And some of the things that make you immensely uncomfortable, other people can discuss with ease. It's all very individual."

"Alright, Felix. Let's see that bag of tricks."

"There are eighty-seven of them. So you've got plenty to choose from…and don't try ditching any of them in your sleeve either."

"Ugh…seriously? What are these people, Amish? Oh yeah…that's a good one. I might save that for later. What's up with…_what's the most you've ever weighed?"_

"We have quite a few patients with eating disorders, who consider that number to be rather sacred and would rather die than give it up."

"Okay what about _how long is your penis, while flaccid?"_

"That's the one you want to answer?"

"No. But it might be fun to know who submitted it. Any of the patients here retired porn stars?"

"Not as far as I know."

"God, these are all dumb."

"…"

"Lame...lame...lame. Okay...this one is slightly less lame than the others, but not by much. _Have you ever been fired?"_

"Are you officially asking?"

"You've totally read all these questions and prepared your answers in advance, haven't you?"

"I only have an hour. I didn't want to waste any more of your time than necessary."

"What's the opposite of spontaneity?"

"Are we starting or not?"

"Yes. Of course. Let's play your game, doc. Have you ever been fired? Please say _yes_."

"I've never been technically fired. But when I was twelve, I was asked by my supervisor to give up my paper route."

"Why?"

"I just couldn't seem to memorize which houses to throw the papers to, or remember which customers wanted them on the porch."

"So…some dried up, old lady complained about her paper getting soaked by the sprinkler and you were out of a job."

"Pretty much."

"Were your parents pissed?"

"I think my dad was a little disappointed. But I don't think they were angry. They just couldn't afford to give me any spending money. So really, I was the only one who would be suffering any consequences."

"Did you find another job?"

"Not until I was fourteen."

"What was it?"

"Movie theater usher."

"I'm...having trouble picturing that."

"The uniform was this dreadful, mustard yellow thing."

"Really all clothing made in the seventies should be burned."

"Shouldn't be hard. Polyester is highly flammable."

"So I have to answer now?"

"Yes. Have you ever been fired?""

"I've been fired...many times."

"How many is _many?"_

"It's...the number is so high that they don't even have a name for it."

"All for the same reason?"

"Mostly."

"Any of those stand out to you as being particularly interesting or significant?"

"Not really."

"What was the first job you were fired from?"

"_That_ wasn't the question on the card."

"So why were you fired from all of those jobs?"

"Hmm...that wasn't the question either."

"You asked _me_ follow up questions."

"And you _chose_ to answer them."

"Okay. You got me on a technicality. So it's my turn to pick a question."

"And I have to answer it first?"

"Yes…you shuffled these."

"That surprises you?"

"Not at all. I already decided which one I wanted."

"Of course you did."

"And here it is…_who was your role model, growing up?"_

"Easy...John Wayne, Steve McQueen...Clint Eastwood...that guy in the Marlboro commercials..."

"I mean a real life person."

"I didn't really have that many _real life _people around me."

"Why is that?"

"I told you, we moved a lot."

"But your parents moved with you, right? So they were always there. Would you consider neither of them to be a role model?"

"My mom was Betty Crocker and my dad was Curtis Le May. So…no."

"Who?"

"Google it."

"What about other family members, uncles, grandparents?"

"My mom has…_had_ several siblings. I met her sister once in nineteen seventy-something and then I went to her funeral about fifteen years later. She has a baby brother who is only nine years older than me, and he has a ranch in Austin, Texas."

"What kind of ranch?"

"Guns."

"_Gun_ ranch?"

"Gun enthusiasts go there to shoot at stuff, blow things up. It's like a hundred and fifty acres...private property, so local law enforcement can't interfere. Makes way more money than cattle or sheep."

"I'll bet. No cousins?"

"Uh…My mom's sister was never married and rumored to have died a virgin. Hank…the gun guy, had several children with different women. I don't think he ever married any of them. And I doubt he paid child support either. Probably any lawyers who attempted to serve him papers would get picked off by snipers anyway."

"Was your uncle in the military?"

"Oddly enough, no. He just liked guns."

"What about your dad's side of the family? I realize he wasn't your biological father. But you were probably raised to believe that he was."

"He had a sister who drowned when she was a kid, and another sister who died of pancreatic cancer in ninety-four…and he has a brother who lives in Athens, Georgia with his wife and three hundred Pomeranians."

"He really has three hundred dogs?"

"More like ten. I think they breed them."

"How did your dad's sister drown?"

"I…don't really know. It happened when they were on vacation...some beach in South Carolina. We visited her grave once, when I was a kid. That was the first time I'd even heard about her…and the last. She was born about a year after him, and she was three when she died. So I doubt he even remembered her very well."

"People don't talk about things in your family."

"Does it show?"

"Any cousins on that side?"

"Uh…well my dad's brother has three kids, four including his step-son. I couldn't tell you any of their names. But they're all married, except for the step-son, who is gay. They have about eight kids between them. I haven't seen any of them since I was in my teens, and that was only for a few days a year. And my dad's sister had one daughter, out of wedlock, and I have no idea where she lives. The daughter got married in the eighties and I didn't go to her wedding…or anyone else's for that matter."

"What about grandparents?"

"My dad's dad died when I was a baby. His mom was in a convalescent hospital after that, because she couldn't take care of herself."

"She couldn't have been very old."

"She was in her early sixties. She had Alzheimer's."

"So she lived there until she died? Did you ever visit her?"

"A couple times. She didn't know who I was. She didn't even seem to know who my dad was. She died when I was about ten."

"How did her husband die?"

"Lung cancer. He'd smoked non-filters since he was twelve...supposedly."

"What about your mom's parents?"

"They both died a week after I graduated from medical school."

"Wow. How old were they?"

"I think, about ninety. They were the same age. They went to the same high school and were in the same class. He went first and she died about a week later."

"That's...romantic."

"I guess."

"Did you spend much time with them?"

"Here and there. We spent nine months with them when my dad was in the Philippines."

"What year was that?"

"Um…sixty-eight through part of sixty-nine."

"Did you enjoy your stay there?"

"My grandmother was a good cook. They were a little eccentric."

"Eccentric how?"

"They had a llama."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah…and a skunk and some kind of parrot. She would can her own fruit and enter quilting competitions and my grandfather used to make kites and ships in bottles and sculptures out of random objects he found in the garbage."

"They sound interesting."

"They weren't...boring."

"So of all those relatives, you couldn't pick one that you especially felt connected to?"

"Not really."

"Let's say you _had_ to pick one."

"I…guess my mom's dad."

"Why?"

"You said I had to pick one."

"But why _that _one?"

"I don't know."

"There must have been something about him that you liked."

"He never yelled."

"You don't like yelling."

"No…he just…he didn't freak out over every little thing."

"So you don't like _conflict_. Can you give me an example?"

"Of what?"

"It sounds like he was very patient with you, which was only significant because it was probably a stark contrast of other people in your life, who apparently weren't quite so patient. So give me an example of when he exhibited patience."

"Uh…this one time he took me with him to run some errands, and he had to go into the hardware store. So he told me to stay in the car and that he'd be right back. While he was in there, I climbed into the driver's seat and played with the steering wheel…and I accidentally put the car in neutral."

"Uh oh. You starting rolling?"

"Yeah…but I couldn't reach the brake pedal with my feet. Not that I even knew to do that."

"What happened?"

"Couple of old guys chased the car into the street and pushed it back into the parking lot."

"You must have been shaken up."

"I…yeah."

"So what did your grandfather do?"

"He…laughed. Then he showed me what I'd done, and explained how the car worked."

"He took the time to explain that to you."

"Yeah."

"Did he tell your mother what you'd done?"

"Oh, hell no."

"Why do you think he didn't tell her?"

"He probably knew she'd flip out."

"What do you think your father would have done in that situation?"

"God, I don't even want to know."

"Try to speculate."

"He'd probably tell me I was an idiot, scream himself hoarse, spank me, ignore me for a week and then never let me into his car again."

"How did you feel when your grandfather took the time to explain that to you?"

"I don't know. I guess…it's nice to know someone doesn't think you're an idiot."

"Do you think you're an idiot?"

"All kids are idiots."

"What do you think was different about your grandfather?"

"He…didn't judge people."

"He accepted that we're all human beings, capable of error."

"Yeah."

"Did he get along with your father?"

"Not particularly."

"Did they fight?"

"No. My grandfather...didn't really get into fights."

"Why not?"

"He had a gift for neutralizing conflict."

"How would he do that?"

"I don't know. He just...knew what to say. He'd read people, figure out what makes them tick."

"And he did this with your father. How?"

"He'd distract my dad by getting him to talk about himself. My dad...liked people who thought he was important. People who weren't impressed with him, he didn't go out of his way to be around. Thing is, I seriously doubt my grandfather was all that impressed with him. But he hid it well."

"How much different do you think you would be if you'd been raised by your grandparents, instead of your mom and dad?"

"I'd…know a whole lot more about llamas and canning fruit."

"What did you call him?"

"Who?"

"Your grandfather."

"Opi."

"Like...from Andy Griffith?"

"No...it's a variation on _opa_, the Dutch word for grandpa."

"What about your grandmother? What did you call her?"

"Oma."

"That's sweet."

"I guess. They were Dutch."

"Were they born in the United States?"

"He was. But she was from Belgium and his parents were from the Netherlands."

"Did they speak Dutch around you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"My mom said they decided to only speak English in front of their children, because they didn't want them to be at a cultural disadvantage."

"That was noble of them. But at the same time, they denied their children that connection with their heritage."

"Everything's a trade off."

"Okay. That was…good. You're getting the hang of this sharing thing. So I will tell you that…my role model was our neighbor. He was a retired machinist. I used to hang out with him, help him sort golf balls and strip the insulation off of electrical wire, so he could turn the copper in for cash."

"How was he your role model?"

"My parents…were good parents. But they were busy. They both had to work. I had two older sisters, and they had to divide whatever time they had left over between us. But Pete…didn't have anything else to do. He lived alone. His wife had passed away. So he could give me his undivided attention. And when I was with him…I felt important, like what I had to say was interesting."

"Your parents didn't think it was creepy that you were hanging out with some old guy?"

"My mom was wary of him, because he was a concentration camp survivor. He had numbers tattooed on his arm."

"Why would she be wary of that?"

"Ignorance mostly. She only had a ninth grade education. She was smart. But she wasn't particularly sophisticated. She bought into urban legends and media gossip."

"So she thought he was a gypsy and he was going to kidnap you and make you join his traveling side show?"

"Something like that. Also I think my parent's generation was wary of people in general. Martin Luther King had been shot a few years before. We were in a small suburb of Columbus, Ohio. So it was mostly European Jewish immigrants. They didn't like me to wander too far from the homestead."

"What did your parents do?"

"My mom was a hostess at a restaurant and my father worked for the city."

"What did he do for the city?"

"Maintenance…traffic signals, signs, street lights, painting the lines on the asphalt. He would frequently leave in the middle of the night, because some wires were down or someone had hit a phone pole."

"Cool."

"I think we have time for another question."

"My pick?"

"Yep."

"Most of these are lame. _Which part of your body do you like the least? If you could change anything about yourself…what's your biggest regret? _Oh, here we go. _What's the weirdest thing you've ever done sexually?"_

"Are you officially picking that question?"

"Yes."

"How are we defining _weird?"_

"How do you _want_ to define it?"

"Let's say…however I choose to define it, you must also apply to your own response."

"Okay."

"We will define weird as...deviant, awkward or risqué…something that you think might drastically change people's opinion of you, if they knew about it."

"And you _want_ to tell me that?"

"I'm willing to sacrifice my privacy in exchange for your disclosure."

"Okay. But it better be really impressive, or no dice."

"Hmm...I think it might be."

"Let's hear it."

"My wife and I had been dating for about three months, and we went to this film festival at the university. Some student had put together a four hour documentary about animals."

"What kind of animals?"

"Is that important?"

"Does this story involve bestiality?"

"No."

"Damn. Well then nevermind. Continue."

"I like animals as much as the next guy. But this was…mind numbingly boring. It was twenty minutes of just watching this lion stalk this gazelle, no commentary or music or anything. It was fairly clear how it was going to end. But we didn't exactly have any cash to spend and there wasn't much else going on. So we sat in the back of the theatre and…occupied ourselves."

"You _did it _right there in the theatre?"

"Mmm...sort of."

"She went down on you."

"Yes."

"And whose idea was that?"

"It was a mutual decision."

"I'll _bet_. And what became of your man-juice?"

"We...took it with us when we left."

"You mean she swallowed."

"Yes."

"No wonder you married her. How many other people were there?"

"About…fifty maybe. It was a very large theater. But it was also very dark."

"Nobody saw?"

"I didn't think so. But when we came out into the lobby after the movie was over, we were getting a drink at the fountain and this old lady looked at us and shook her head."

"She was disapproving of your movie theater conduct."

"I think so, yes."

"You totally could have been arrested for that."

"I know."

"Dr. Nolan is a criminal."

"I've had my moments."

"I'm not sure I feel safe with you now."

"I'll be sure to keep the lights on."

"And steer clear of National Geographic specials."

"So was that impressive enough for you?"

"I _guess_."

"So...your turn. What's the weirdest thing you've ever done, sexually?"

"Lemme think. Most recently, or what?"

"Doesn't matter. Are there so many things, that you're going to have trouble narrowing it down?"

"I think you and I probably have a different perspective on what constitutes weird, or risqué."

"So just tell me something you did that _you_ think was weird or risqué."

"Okay, I thought of something. But I'm not sure if I can tell you, because it involves another party that you…already know."

"You mean another patient?"

"No."

"A member of the staff here?"

"No."

"Who else do we both know? Oh…James. _He_ was involved somehow?"

"Sort of."

"And you think this information might alter my opinion of him?"

"I don't know. Depends on how low your opinion of him is already."

"I'm professionally obligated to be objective."

"That doesn't mean you will be."

"You care what I think of him. That's interesting."

"No. I just don't want it getting back to me that I told you."

"I'm sworn to secrecy."

"Yeah, I've heard that before."

"And you think I'd be willing to risk my career over this information?"

"It's not _that_ interesting."

"Then let's hear it."

"Okay this one time, about ten years ago...we jerked off together."

"In what context?"

"We…he had brought me this…after I had the infarction, I told you my girlfriend moved out."

"Yes. This happened then?"

"Wilson brought me some porn, to cheer me up."

"Was that something he'd done before?"

"He'd given me porn before. But never with that particular motive, I don't think."

"And you watched it together?"

"I didn't want to watch it at all."

"Why?"

"I was…I'd just started taking all the Vicodin, and I still hadn't gone back to work."

"So between that and the initial surgery, and the fact that your girlfriend just left you, you weren't exactly in the mood to do anything self indulgent."

"Yeah."

"So…he agreed to watch it with you."

"Sort of."

"What did he do?"

"He just put it in the VCR and pushed play."

"Why was that particular ploy successful? Certainly you could have found some way to shut it off."

"He had the remote."

"But you could probably have gotten it back some how."

"I wasn't in any condition to wrestle him for it."

"Perhaps you actually _did_ want to watch it."

"…"

"So you watched this movie together and then what?"

"Then…I responded appropriately."

"And you couldn't very easily get up and just take care of it somewhere else."

"Exactly."

"So what did you do?"

"I...sat there."

"You must have wanted to touch yourself."

"Sure...but he was sitting like three feet away."

"So what happened?"

"He must have noticed that I was...he started to…kind of rub himself through his pants."

"Was he aroused too?"

"I don't know."

"You couldn't tell?"

"Not from where I was sitting."

"Why else would he do that if he wasn't actually aroused?"

"I think…he just didn't want me to feel awkward."

"_Did_ you feel awkward?"

"..."

"How did you feel when you were watching him do that?"

"I wasn't _watching_. I _glanced_ over."

"But surely seeing your same sex friend fondling himself several feet away had to have affected you in some way."

"…"

"Did you touch yourself after that?"

"I started to…do what he'd been doing."

"Rubbing yourself, through your pants."

"Yeah."

"But you said you jerked off _together_, which implies that things must have escalated at some point."

"Yeah, they did."

"About how much time passed before then?"

"Maybe fifteen minutes."

"Who initiated that?"

"He did."

"So he just exposed himself and started masturbating in front of you."

"Not _in front_ of me."

"Next to you, then. How did you feel when you saw him do that?"

"I guess I was relieved."

"Because you wanted to touch yourself also."

"Yeah."

"So you followed suit, I take it."

"Yeah."

"Did you touch each other at all?"

"No. I mean, he brought me a wash cloth…you know, _after_."

"Did you say anything to each other when this was going on?"

"No."

"Did it ever happen again?"

"Not really."

"_Not really_. So something like it?"

"No…we'd talk about watching porn, loan each other movies. We'd joke about it. But we never…"

"Do you think you joked about it because it was an uncomfortable topic?"

"I don't know."

"Since this happened, have you ever contemplated him sexually?"

"Why...would you ask me that?"

"I imagine that seeing him in that context put certain ideas into your head."

"No."

"Based on what you just told me…and your extraordinary fascination with his love life and related anatomy, I think it's a relevant question."

"I…don't know. He's…good looking."

"Huh."

"_What?"_

"Most men would respond to that by asserting their heterosexuality."

"..."

Are you heterosexual?"

"I'm…sexual."

"Have you ever thought about a male in a sexual way?"

"I appreciate many forms of physical beauty."

"So you've looked at men and contemplated them in a sexual context."

"You worried that I've been checking you out?"

"Do I _sound_ worried?"

"..."

"Have you ever had any kind of sexual contact with a man?"

"How are we defining sexual?"

"Anything from hugging and kissing to full on intercourse."

"I...kissed one."

"Who?"

"Just…in college, my roommate."

"Why did you do that?"

"Curious."

"Was he gay?"

"I don't think so."

"So he was just curious too."

"Yeah."

"How many times did you do that?"

"..."

"But you wouldn't consider yourself bisexual."

"Not…actively."

"It sounds like you don't consider yourself heterosexual either."

"It's…people are more complex than that."

"I take it you're a fan of the _Kinsey Scale_."

"Kinsey was a pervert."

"Quite possibly. But he also made some excellent observations about human sexuality."

"..."

"So again, have you thought about James is a sexual manner?"

"…"

"Why are you having so much trouble answering that question?"

"He…talks to you on the phone. I know he calls you."

"And you think I would disclose the details of this conversation?"

"…"

"If I told him and you somehow found out, I could lose my license. Do you really think I'd risk my job for some gossip?"

"No."

"Well, then?"

"I've…had a few dreams about him."

"How many is a few?"

"I don't know. More than two...less than ten."

"Okay. But that's outside of your control. I'm talking about consciously."

"Why does it matter?"

"It matters a lot. If he's just your friend, even your best friend, well the degree to which you're implicated in his girlfriend's death has probably traumatized you to some extent. But if your feelings for him aren't exclusively platonic, especially if they're unrequited and yet to have been openly declared, that elevates this to whole different level."

"I'm not _in love_ with him."

"I didn't say you were. Why would you employ that particular phrase?"

"I thought that's what you meant."

"But why _that_ phrase?"

"I don't know. I meant it generically."

"_Are _you in love with him?"

"Define _in love_."

"You're deflecting, which means you're either sure and you don't want to say or you're not sure and you don't want to think about it. You've never been in love?"

"I have."

"So you know what it feels like."

"Wilson's not gay."

"I didn't ask if he was gay. Does he have to be, for your feelings to be real?"

"There's no…It's not like that. We jerked off together, ten years ago. I had couple of creepy dreams about him. That's it."

"The dreams were creepy? In what sense?"

"…"

"What were the dreams about?"

"Uh…sex?"

"But in what context?"

"It was…ambiguous. He was just kind of _there_....parts of him anyway."

"Which parts?"

"Which do you _think?"_

"So you said he was _there._ Where's _there?"_

"Why does it matter?"

"You don't think the context of a dream is important?"

"It's just a dream."

"Would you have sex with him, if he seemed interested, if there was absolutely no risk of rejection?"

"He's _not_ interested."

"He exposed himself and masturbated on your couch to cheer you up. That implies_ some_ level of interest."

"In the _experience_, not in me. That...was an isolated instance. Wilson would probably fuck a penguin if he thought it would end world hunger."

"So it's just altruism. He set aside whatever insecurities and objections he might have, because he knew you might otherwise deny yourself that pleasure."

"Exactly."

"So would he do that for just anyone?"

"I don't know…probably not _anyone_."

"So...you're special."

"_Everyone is special_, doc. There's a great, big poster in the cafeteria that says so."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"It has a puppy on it."

"You don't think you might be slightly _more_ special?"

"It depends on what you're measuring it against."

"What _should_ I be measuring it against?"

"..."

"You didn't answer my question. Would you have sex with him, if he were interested?"

"I told you, he's not."

"But that's not what I asked."

"..."

"So you're sparing yourself potential disappointment by refusing to confront your desires."

"I don't see the point in contemplating something that's never going to happen. I also don't waste a lot of time thinking about what it might be like to tour with the Rolling Stones or medal in Olympic curling."

"So you _do_ have fantasies."

"Everyone has fantasies."

"Some people fulfill their fantasies."

"Then they'd cease to be fantasies."

"So you have fantasies and some of them involve James."

"..."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I told you…he's attractive."

"So it's just aesthetics."

"..."

"What's attractive about him?"

"You've seen him."

"Beauty is subjective. I'm asking what _you_ find attractive about him."

"He's…I don't know."

"Do you like looking at him?"

"Sure, I guess. He's not hard on the eyes."

"Why?"

"He's good looking."

"Again…why?"

"He's got this…thing…I don't know…"

"What thing?"

"..."

"You're blushing."

"I am _not_. It's warm in here."

"This building is air conditioned. That's the first time I've seen you really smile since you've been here. What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Right. You're deriving enjoyment from thinking about nothing."

"I'm not deriving…I'm _amused_. This is my amused face."

"Uh huh. So why are you amused?"

"It's…weird."

"Weird how?"

"Well, not really weird. He has this…his teeth are crooked. So sometimes when he smiles a specific way…"

"It's crooked. He has a crooked smile."

"See? You already know."

"That doesn't seem like something one would typically consider attractive. Yet you do. Why?"

"I don't know."

"Do you like seeing physical evidence of his flaws?"

"It's not a _flaw_."

"I think thousands of orthodontists would disagree with you. It's a physical imperfection, one that many people would spend money to fix."

"He has plenty of other _imperfections_."

"Like what?"

"He has strabismic amblyopia. He had these glasses when he was a kid. But he hated wearing them. So he used to intentionally misplace them all the time, and they never really corrected the problem. When he was in his twenties, he broke the metacarpal of the pinkie finger on his right hand by getting it stuck in the rungs of a shopping cart. So he can't bend it all the way down with the rest of his fingers. He has a scar on his left shoulder from when he had chicken pox."

"Are you this observant about everyone?"

"Most of the time."

"Why?"

"That's how you find out things."

"One might say you could also find out things by talking."

"That's a waste of time."

"Because people lie."

"Exactly."

"You could still learn something about them from their lies, what they choose to lie about and the lies they choose to tell."

"I guess."

"So again…would you have sex with James if he was interested?"

"Sure…if that's what you want to hear, doc. I'd fuck his brains out."

"Would you really?"

"No. But that seems to be what you want to hear."

"Actually, all I want to hear is the truth."

"You're assuming you already know what the truth is."

"And you're assuming I don't."

"..."

"I think you like _James_. I think you probably haven't confronted the nature of your attraction and it's possible that you don't fully understand it, or even the specifics of your own sexuality. But the only reason you've yet to explore it is because you fear rejection."

"Oh brother."

"How long have you liked him?"

"I'm not talking about this anymore. You're reading way too much into it. It's just sex. I had a dream about Margaret Thatcher once. It involved water balloons and edible body paint. You wanna analyze that too?"

"Does he know?"

"What do you think?"

"Based on your communication skills and your inability to assert your needs and feelings, I'd say no."

"And that's how I'd like to keep it."

"So…for the record, you are acknowledging the existence of some sort of attraction. You'd prefer he not know about it. Why?"

"Because…he wouldn't understand. He'd read too much into it, _just_ like you're doing. Then he'd freak out and it would be weird."

"You don't want to risk losing that friendship. Why?"

"It's not like I have any other friends."

"But…he could be more than a friend. You don't think that's worth exploring?"

"Why is this so important to you?"

"I think it's important _to you_. You have feelings for someone, and it sounds like you've had them for a while. But you've yet to communicate them or act on them. You don't think that's stressful?"

"Trust me, the alternative would be more stressful."

"Not necessarily."

"It's not worth it."

"Does anyone else know?"

"No."

"That at least explains why you're so resentful of his other relationships."

"I'm not _resentful_."

"Do you think it's possible that Amber sensed that you had feelings for James? It would explain why she perceived you to be a threat to their relationship."

"I never said she felt I was _threatening_ their relationship."

"You said she came to the bar to pick you up and agreed that she'd probably done it to assert her ownership of James. Why do you think she felt the need to do that?"

"Because she was a bitch."

"You didn't like her."

"She was a bitch."

"Do you think you might have had a better opinion of her, had she not been involved with James?"

"No. I thought she was a bitch even before they started dating."

"But she still resented you on some level. Why?"

"Might have something to do with the fact that I fired her."

"She worked for you?"

"She was vying for a fellowship. I hired thirty applicants and only kept three."

"How did you decide which to keep?"

"I watched them work, narrowed it down over a few weeks."

"So they went into it knowing that they might not procure a permanent position."

"A fellowship isn't permanent, but yes."

"So if Amber went into it knowing there was a chance she might get fired, why do you think she was resentful? She must have expected it."

"She was the last one to go."

"Ah…so she probably assumed that if she'd lasted that long, the job was as good as hers."

"That and she did everything in her power to sabotage her opponents, just short of putting a hit out on them and signing a pact with Satan."

"It sounds like she's rather competitive. Why did you fire her?"

"She…couldn't handle the idea of failure."

"What kind of failure?"

"I mean that she couldn't deal with the possibility of losing or being wrong."

"Remember what I said about it being our own faults that we find most frustrating in others?"

"Hey, that particular insight was not lost on me."

"And yet you still fired her."

"I need people who think differently than I do."

"Were you and Amber a lot alike?"

"In some ways. We had similar beliefs about...human behavior."

"Do you think maybe that similarity had anything to do with James being attracted to her?"

"He…made the observation that it was like _dating_ me."

"Hmm...except for the _you_ part."

"He seemed okay with the substitution."

"How did you feel when he made that observation?"

"…"

"Were you flattered?"

"Yeah, totally. It made my day. I went home and wrote all about it on my blog."

"I notice you referred to her as a _substitution_. Did you feel like maybe James wasn't going to need you anymore?"

"He never needed me."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true."

"How long did he and Amber date before he made this particular observation?"

"Four weeks, I think."

"You're not sure?"

"He told me they'd been together for four months. She told one of my fellows it had been four weeks."

"And you believed her over him, why?"

"She had no reason to lie."

"But James did?"

"He has a history of rushing into things, committing and then regretting it."

"So he was lying to spare himself your commentary on the likelihood that his relationship wouldn't last, even if that was a reasonable observation for you to make?"

"Yes."

"So when James started dating Amber officially, outside of just your awareness, how did that affect your relationship?"

"She didn't want him to spend any time with me."

"How did she communicate that?"

"She…it wasn't like she came out and said it. He was just…suddenly unavailable, bailing on things we were supposed to do together."

"And through deductive reasoning, you assumed that was the result of her influence."

"Yeah."

"And how did you respond to this particular...development?"

"I demanded joint custody."

"Of James? How did he react to that?"

"He didn't want to be involved."

"So he was content to let you two duke it out, even though he probably knew that it had the potential to get very ugly. Why do you think that is?"

"Wilson hates confrontation. He will go to great lengths to avoid it."

"Did you eventually win any sort of custody?"

"She gave me one day a week and every other Saturday."

"She _gave_ you. So she somehow established that her boyfriend's time was hers to give or take away at will."

"Yeah."

"How did she achieve that position?"

"By having a vagina."

"So...you gave in. Because the alternative would have been not getting to spend any time with James at all."

"Pretty much."

"How do you feel about the fact that he was unwilling to referee? He must have been okay with her decision, or he'd have attempted to amend it."

"He…didn't seem to care one way or the other."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"He obviously didn't need to spend that much time with me anymore, after upgrading to _House 2.0_."

"You felt you'd been replaced. Your use of the word _upgrade_ implies that you think she was an improvement on you. In which way was she an improvement?"

"I already told you. She had a vagina."

"I see. And you wish to have one also?"

"What? _No_."

"You're saying that her being female was an advantage, based on the assumption that James is exclusively attracted to women."

"Because he _is_."

"What else about her do you think was an improvement?"

"She was…young and healthy."

"She was in good health, up until the crash."

"Yes."

"So you're fifty, a male, not in the greatest health. Do you think those things are specifically what's keeping you from pursuing a romantic relationship with James."

"I never said I wanted to _pursue_ him."

"You just want to have him by default."

"…"

"What other ways do you think she was an improvement on you?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me one more and I'll leave it alone."

"Well...she wasn't an alcoholic or a drug addict."

"You think that's important? You implied before that you perceived your Vicodin use to be an inconvenience to James. But he willingly prescribed for you."

"So?"

"So it would be rather hypocritical of him to hold your addiction against you, when he was actively enabling it."

"Yeah...your point being?"

"Did you tell James that you felt you'd been replaced?"

"I kind of thought the whole custody battle would have clued him in."

"I'll take that as a no. And I doubt he'd have picked up on it. He was in a new relationship, the honeymoon phase. Probably he wasn't firing on all cylinders."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"How do you know?"

"Because he was like that…before."

"When?"

"When he was married. His wives hated me, hated that he wanted to spend time with me instead of them. And Wilson hates confrontation. So he didn't bother asserting himself either way."

"So he allowed them to think that the time he spent with you was a result of your coercion. That way any animosity they felt as a result of being neglected would be directed at you instead of their husband."

"Exactly."

"But why assume that's about you? You said James doesn't like confrontation. Perhaps he was just trying to avoid conflict. Perhaps he was under the impression that it wouldn't matter, because you wouldn't care what they thought of you anyway."

"..."

"And he still chose to spend time with you instead of them. There was no -as you called it - custody battle."

"So?"

"So…obviously something must have been different about Amber."

"She wasn't like the other women he'd been with."

"What were they like?"

"Weak, vulnerable, needy, dependent."

"But those relationships failed. Your relationship with James has lasted longer than any of his marriages. Perhaps he was subconsciously attempting to date someone who was more like you than his wives had been, because he knew that would increase his chances that he might be compatible with them for the long term."

"..."

"So you also must have realized there was the possibility that you could lose your friend."

"And I did."

"No…you mean when he quit his job? But you must have worked things out. Because you said he came back at some point."

"He came back."

"But you didn't work anything out."

"I told you, he doesn't like confrontation."

"So you mean to tell me that neither of you discussed the reason he'd left in the first place? You never discussed the conversation you had in his office, talked about his girlfriend's death or the role you'd played in it?"

"…"

"How would you characterize your relationship after he returned to work?"

"…"

"Did things return to normal, somewhat?"

"Not really."

"In what sense?"

"They were never normal to begin with."

"Okay…but did they return to how they'd been prior to Amber's death?"

"…"

"What changed?"

"I don't know. Maybe nothing. Maybe…I don't know."

"What was it that finally made him decide to come back?"

"I don't know."

"He didn't say?"

"He…drove me to my father's funeral."

"So when your father died, you called him. That tragedy brought you back together."

"No."

"Someone else called him."

"My mother."

"Why would your mother call him?"

"To make sure I came to the funeral."

"You weren't planning on attending?"

"She wanted me to give the eulogy."

"She didn't have any reason to think you might not have been comfortable honoring that request?"

"She…didn't care."

"Right. You said she'd think you were being petty and it sounds like she regarded your feelings as irrelevant. But did you make any attempt to communicate your disinterest?"

"I told her I didn't want to do it...even before he died."

"So you already knew that he was dying."

"Yeah."

"And what did she say?"

"She just ignored me. And when she called me after he'd died, she did the same thing."

"Ignored you how? How do you ignore someone on the phone?"

"I said I wasn't coming, that I had nothing good to say about him and if she insisted on making me give the eulogy, I'd make sure she regretted it."

"And what did she say to that?"

"She just pretended she hadn't heard it...and then she said she'd see me at the funeral."

"Wow. That's some strong denial."

"You have no idea."

"So how did James go about contacting you, or arranging to take you to your father's funeral?"

"He drugged me."

"_Drugged _you? In what sense?"

"My boss…Wilson called her, told her my dad had died. She injected me with a sedative, and I assume she had someone carry me to Wilson's car."

"How was she able to do that without you realizing?"

"We had a patient who might have had SARS. Everyone who had been exposed to her was getting intravenous immuno globulin."

"So she told you it was an IG shot, and injected you with a sedative instead. What happened after that?"

"I woke up in Wilson's car."

"How long had you been unconscious?"

"Few hours."

"So you were already well on your way to…wherever."

"Yeah. He'd taken my cane, my pills, my wallet and my cell phone."

"What did he say to you? I imagine you must have wanted some explanation for…why you'd been drugged and abducted."

"That he was doing it for my mom."

"How did you feel about that?"

"How am I supposed to feel about it?"

"Why do you think he said that?"

"Because…Wilson's need to do the right thing is obviously stronger than his hatred for me."

"You think he hates you?"

"Past tense."

"But you didn't phrase it in past tense."

"…"

"Do you think he hates you?"

"…"

"So you didn't offer you any explanation other than that he was doing it for your mother. Were James and your parents well acquainted?"

"Not well…they knew each other. They'd met about five times. He'd spoken to my mother on the phone, maybe a dozen or so times."

"What was his impression of your father?"

"I don't know. I'm sure he thought my dad was a great guy."

"Why?"

"That seems to be the general consensus among people who didn't _really_ know him."

"Did you eventually deliver the eulogy?"

"Yeah."

"And did you make good on your threat that your mother would regret asking you?"

"No."

"She was satisfied with your speech."

"Seemed to be."

"So you said what you thought she wanted to hear, instead of stating how you really felt."

"Yep."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I just figured it wasn't worth it when the room was filled with people who would probably think that badmouthing my father constituted blasphemy."

"Was James aware of the reasons you might not want to attend your father's funeral?"

"Not...exactly."

"So you never spoke to him about your relationship with your father?"

"Not in any depth."

"Did you make any attempt during the journey?"

"I mentioned…it didn't matter."

"Mentioned what? Why didn't it matter?"

"I told you I figured it out when I was twelve, that he wasn't my real dad? I pointed this out to him, and he didn't react well."

"Pointed it out to James?"

"No, my dad."

"How did you point it out to him?"

"I...made a remark."

"What sort of remark?"

"Just...you know."

"A _you're not my real dad, you can't tell me what to do_ sort of remark?"

"Something along those lines."

"How did he react?"

"He ignored me."

"For how long?"

"All summer. If he wanted something, he'd write it on a piece of paper and shove it under my door."

"What sort of things would he deem worthy of communicating?"

"_Take out the trash_…_your bike is still not where I asked you to put it_…_I'm having important people over this weekend, so try not to say or do anything to embarrass me anymore than you already have_…"

"So you shared this information with James and…what?"

"He basically said I was full of crap."

"Full of crap in what sense?"

"He didn't believe that my father wasn't my real father. He said I'd…invented that because I was ungrateful and that my dad had every reason to be insulted. He didn't believe my father would have ignored me for an entire summer either. I think he assumed I was exaggerating."

"But you said you took a DNA sample at the funeral and got confirmation that he was not your biological father. Did you share the results of that test with James?"

"Yeah."

"So how he did react to having been proven wrong?"

"He…didn't really."

"He didn't acknowledge that he'd been proven wrong or apologize for his assumption."

"Wilson doesn't apologize."

"Ever?"

"…"

"Why do you think that is?"

"Because he's never wrong."

"You think that he perceives himself to be incapable of error? You made a similar observation about your father. Is it possible you're projecting?"

"No."

"You stated that James dislikes confrontation. Do you think his reluctance to issue verbal apology is related to his desire to avoid confrontation?"

"It's not the same thing."

"It_ is_ the same thing. People who avoid confrontation don't want to confront, that includes themselves and their own motives and flaws. They'll often go to great lengths to perpetuate their own obliviousness."

"Yeah."

"But it sounds like other people's unwillingness to confront issues has been a major source of stress for you."

"..."

"Do you think James is aware that so many things are unresolved between you?"

"I don't know."

"Which means that he might be. But you're worried that maybe he wouldn't care."

"I'm sure he has more important things to worry about."

"Hmm...there's that word again, _important_. You implied before that you don't think you're important to James, which would only be an issue if he were important to you."

"..."

"So just how important is he?"

"..."

"I know you claimed not to be _in love_ with him. But do you love him?"

"_Love_...is just a word."

"That's not an answer."

"..."

"Has he ever told you that he loves you?"

"No."

"What about indirectly? Has he ever given you a present or a greeting card or written you a note and signed it _love, James_?"

"I don't know. Probably at some point."

"What about you?"

"What about me _what?"_

"Have you ever told him that you love him?"

"Not really."

"But that's not a _no_. So that means maybe you communicated it indirectly, or you said it and he was either unreceptive or didn't hear you."

"I think he thought I was kidding."

"Were you?"

"..."

"How did that make you feel, that he assumed you were kidding?"

"..."

"So you allowed him to think you were kidding, even though you weren't, because the alternative meant possibly having your affections rejected."

"No _affections_...just words."

"And words don't mean anything."

"Nope."

"I don't believe you. I think they mean a lot. I think _you_ think they mean a lot."

"..."

"What people say...matters. You claim that words are irrelevant, that only actions matter. But just based on my limited interaction with you, I can count at least five times that you've implied being deeply affected by someone else's words."

"..."

"I want you to think about this."

"Of _course_ you do."

"I want you to think about things you need to hear from people in your life, and things that you've wanted to say, but either couldn't or wouldn't."

"You're giving me homework now?"

"You don't have to write it down, unless you think that would help you to remember."

"And then you're going to make me talk about it."

"I'm not going to _make_ you do anything. I'm making a suggestion, because I think that examining this information would be beneficial to you."

"Right."

"Or we could just play with the cards again."

"I think I like that idea better."

"Okay."

"Okay? You don't want to argue about it some more?"

"Whatever it takes to get you to talk, Greg."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"But I get to find out who submitted the penis question."


	4. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 2

_House and Dr. Nolan discuss Kutner's death._

**

* * *

**

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"How are you today, Greg?"

"Fine."

"Is that so?"

"Uh…yeah?"

"Nothing specific you want to discuss with me?"

"Is there ever?"

"Dr. Bendell said you had a very interesting group last night."

"..."

"You want to talk about _that?"_

"Did I bring it up?"

"You don't think it might be important?"

"..."

"Would you agree that things we have a strong, emotional response to tend to be significant?"

"Why are you doing this? Is this _fun_ for you?"

"Do I look like I'm having fun?"

"Do you exist just to torture me?"

"Talking about something to which you may have had a strong emotional response is torture."

"…"

"How comfortable are you, shedding tears in front of other people?"

"..."

"How about in private?"

"I'm not doing this."

"How about casually...maybe when you're watching a movie or a television program that's particularly...moving."

"I'm walking out."

"Why do you think this particular discussion had such a profound impact on you?"

"This is me…leaving. See me leaving? Buh-bye."

"Alright, Greg. If that's the way you want it. I guess we'll pick this up tomorrow afternoon."

"…"

"…"

"Has anyone told you that you're a shitty negotiator?"

"There's nothing to negotiate. I have no leverage."

"Sure you do. You run the place and every employee is at your beck and call. How much more fricken leverage could you want?"

"You either want to do this or you don't. I can't _make_ you participate."

"Yeah, I'm _really _doing this by choice."

"You're still here."

"It took me fifteen minutes to walk here from my room and…my leg hurts."

"This morning, you told Nurse Allen that you were at a two on the pain scale."

"Oh for God's sake. Do you have everyone on _the hotline?_ You all have some collective hive that you plug into and download from?"

"We work as a team here."

"Even the guy who stocks the vending machines? Because...I think he might be a terrorist."

"All staff members are encouraged to share information that they think could be relevant to a patient's recovery, so long as they don't violate any confidentiality laws in the process. Anything spoken about in group is fair game."

"So you guys sit around and talk about us over coffee and muffins at those secret, little meetings of yours?"

"They're hardly _secret_, Greg. They're listed on the hospital schedule, which is posted on the main bulletin board for everyone to see."

"..."

"So that bothers you, that you're being discussed."

"It's kind of creepy."

"You have a team with which you sit around and discuss patients. Do you find _that_ creepy?"

"We're trying to diagnose them."

"You don't think treatment is as important as diagnosis?"

"I'm sure it probably is to someone."

"But not to you."

"Nope."

"Would it help to know what was wrong with your car, if you didn't know how to fix it?"

"I'm not a mechanic. And...people are not cars."

"But it bothers you to know that people are drawing conclusions about you, even if they're based on facts."

"…"

"So what were you discussing in group last night?"

"This again? I assume Dr. Gender-Bender furnished you with a complete transcript."

"..."

"I think he's been slacking on his hormone replacement therapy, by the way. Or should I say _she?"_

"Dr. _Bendell_ and I only had a few minutes to speak, before I had to go into session this morning."

"Oh, too bad."

"You know I'm going to speak with him later, right?"

"Well, I guess you'll find out then."

"Would you feel more comfortable discussing it after he's given me more details?"

"I don't want to discuss it at all."

"Tell me more about this fellow of yours who committed suicide…Dr. Kutner."

"Oh, here we go."

"You don't think there's a connection between that event and your reaction to what was shared in your group?"

"Between death and death? Hmm…could be."

"Not _just _death and death, suicide and suicide. Suicide of a young person by means of a handgun, from what I understand."

"Yeah, it's really interfering with life in a big way. I'll never be able to watch that Pearl Jam video again."

"Ah...we've moved directly on to humor."

"So?"

"So...this must be _very_ important."

"Yeah, you should hear my jokes about abortion and global warming."

"How old was Dr. Kutner when he died?"

"Thirty-three."

"Why do you think he did it?"

"He wanted to see if he'd be resurrected on the third day. He was trying to start a religion."

"..."

"I bet he's _really_ kicking himself now..."

"Surely you must have speculated. You like to figure things out. I can't imagine something like that happening and you not wanting to know why."

"He wasn't happy."

"Did he seem unhappy?"

"No."

"So how did you come to the conclusion that he was unhappy?"

"I extrapolated it from the gaping hole in the side of his head."

"You sound angry."

"Because I don't want to talk about this."

"How did other coworkers react to this death?"

"…"

"Were they just as surprised?"

"..."

"What about his family?"

"He was adopted."

"Do you think that's relevant?"

"Wouldn't be worth mentioning otherwise."

"What happened to his biological parents?"

"They were murdered."

"By whom?"

"Armed robber. They were Indian. So naturally they owned a convenience store with an easily accessible safe."

"So this was not this young man's first exposure to guns."

"Apparently not."

"Do you think the fact that he chose to use a gun to end his life is significant? Do you think there's a connection between that and what happened to his parents?"

"Probably."

"Probably?"

"I have no way of knowing for sure."

"Why not?"

"Uh...because he's _dead?_ I mean, I suppose I could get a OUIJA board or call that Sylvia Browne chick who's always on the Montel Williams show."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't speculate."

"..."

"How old was he when his parents were killed?"

"Six."

"How did his _adoptive_ parents react to his death?"

"They seemed…markedly unconcerned."

"So you spoke to them."

"Briefly."

"Explain to me in what way they seemed _unconcerned_."

"They just...didn't seem surprised."

"That bothers you."

"No."

"It sounds like it does."

"Hey, they knew him better than I did. Maybe they expected it."

"Did they _seem_ like they'd been expecting it?"

"No…they just didn't seem surprised."

"Why do you think they might have been expecting it?"

"I don't know. Their son's biological parents were blown away right in front of him. Seems unlikely that wouldn't have _some_ lasting impact on his life."

"I find it interesting that you have no trouble pointing out that other people would or should be affected by trauma, but continue to assert that you are not."

"…"

"What was the funeral like?"

"I didn't go."

"Why not?"

"Couldn't find anything black to wear."

"Did your other fellows attend?"

"I have no idea."

"You didn't ask?"

"..."

"How long had he worked for you?"

"Two years."

"Why did you hire him?"

"He was a good doctor."

"Did he have a specialty?"

"Sports medicine."

"That's not something one would associate with extraordinary diagnostic abilities. You said you started out with thirty applicants and narrowed it down to three. Why was he so special?"

"He was flame retardant."

"You chose him even over _Amber_, who you clearly stated was rather competitive. There must have been a reason."

"No. Seriously...flame retardant. The kid just wouldn't burn."

"Do you find this amusing?"

"We tried electrocuting him..."

"Does it help you to joke about it?"

"He was also invulnerable to kryptonite and ionizing radiation..."

"But apparently not bullet proof."

"..."

"Does the use of humor make his death less painful for you to discuss?"

"..."

"Does it help you to pretend that it doesn't matter?"

"..."

"Again, _why_ did you hire him?"

"He was a good doctor."

"Probably _most_ of your applicants were good doctors."

"Hey, some of my applicants weren't_ even_ doctors."

"What kind of a person was he?"

"A...mammal."

"More specifically."

"He was...a eukaryote."

"..."

"All of his cells had nuclei...mitochondria...chloroplasts..."

"It was my understanding that chloroplasts were only found in plant cells."

"Dr. Kutner consumed his food through photosynthesis. It was actually rather impressive..."

"Right. And how did he relate to others, friends and coworkers?"

"Mostly verbally. But sometimes he would use hand gestures and primitive, grunting noises."

"So he was socially active?"

"..."

"Did he have friends?"

"..."

"Did people like him?"

"Yeah...sure."

"And how did he _relate _to them?"

"I don't know."

"How did he communicate with them?"

"He…wasn't full of crap."

"He was genuine."

"No…He just didn't waste any time trying to bullshit people."

"And you don't either. Do you think perhaps that might be why you felt compelled to hire him?"

"He wasn't anything like me."

"What does that mean?"

"That he _wasn't anything like me_. What the hell else would I mean?"

"You just said he didn't try to bullshit people. That sounds like a similarity, not a difference."

"…"

"This is upsetting you."

"No. I just don't want to talk about it."

"In what way _wasn't_ he like you?"

"He was...blatantly honest."

"As are you."

"…"

"Again, that sounds more like a similarity."

"He did it…without alienating people."

"Hmm...explain that to me."

"He'd say the stupidest shit. I mean, everyone says stupid shit. But it was like...he _knew_ it was stupid, even when he was saying it. He never hesitated to...acknowledge that it was stupid, sometimes immediately."

"So if he offended someone with his frankness, he would apologize readily and move on."

"Pretty much."

"And how did other people respond to this? Were they as quick to forgive and forget?"

"Usually...but it's not like...he wasn't discouraged from continuing to interact with...whomever he might have offended."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know."

"Would he ever laugh at himself or appear to be amused by his own social faux pas?"

"Yeah."

"Did he ever offend you?"

"No..."

"He wanted you to like him."

"He didn't care if people liked him."

"But you did."

"..."

"Why?"

"..."

"So he told the truth and wasn't concerned about being accepted, and yet people still liked him...including yourself."

"…"

"Do people like you?"

"Do _you_ like me?"

"Do you _care _if I like you?"

"That's...not what I meant..."

"Do you _want_ people to like you?"

"Not especially."

"So you were intrigued by him, because he believed in blatant honesty. He was able to pursue that agenda without socially isolating himself in the process. You were fascinated, because like you he professed to be completely comfortable with his own flaws and indifferent to other people's opinions, except he was actually telling the truth."

"He had no agenda."

"Everyone has some agenda. The word is neither positive or negative. It implies the source of one's motivation. I notice you didn't bother to correct my statement that your claims to be indifferent are false."

"No...I just figured that arguing with you about it would be a waste of energy."

"What was he motivated by, if it wasn't acceptance from his peers?"

"…"

"Some doctors are motivated by the pursuit of research, some by money, some by power, some by public recognition. What was this young man's motivation?"

"Experience."

"What kind of experience?"

"_Any_ experience. He just liked...doing stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"_Any _stuff."

"Did he seem to like working for you?"

"He liked everything."

"Of course. That way if he enjoyed working for you, it would be irrelevant. How convenient."

"…"

"Did he ever begrudge any of his professional responsibilities?"

"Not...no."

"It sounds like you wanted to add something to that."

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"..."

"What sort of duties did he appear to resent?"

"I just said, _he didn't_."

"And I said it sounded like there was something you wanted to add to that."

"..."

"No?"

"It's just...stuff that he...stuff that other people would bitch about...he didn't care."

"Like what?"

"Like _anything_."

"Do you think he was lacking in self respect?"

"No, it wasn't like that. It wasn't like he'd just...do _anything_. It was like...he once got excited about digging up a grave."

"Why on Earth would he need to dig up a grave?"

"We...had a patient who might have had Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease. She was a mortician, presenting with CNS symptoms."

"So you suspected she'd contracted the illness from some recently deceased individual, and you wanted to confirm without having to biopsy her brain tissue. I assume you went through the proper legal channels."

"Not...exactly. But it didn't matter anyway. She ended up having ergot poisoning."

"So you illegally exhumed a total stranger's body for nothing."

"Well_...they_ did. I was at home, in bed. Or...passed out on the couch anyway."

"And Dr. Kutner wasn't at all bothered by having to participate in this little...excursion."

"No. I told you...he was excited. As in _I can't wait to earn my Hardy Boys grave digging badge _excited."

"Did he display any other enthusiasm that seemed...misplaced?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"_Probably_, as in?"

"Probably as in..._probably_."

"..."

"The first Christmas that he worked for me, he decorated my office with tinsel and suggested my team do this...lame secret Santa gift exchange."

"And how would that qualify as misplaced enthusiasm?"

"He was born Hindu and his adoptive parents were reformed Jews."

"So it's unlikely that he was raised to believe in Santa Claus or even celebrate Christmas."

"..."

"Did your team participate in the gift exchange?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Eh..."

"Did you exchange gifts or not?"

"Ask me some other time."

"Why can't I just ask you now?"

"I don't...just save it, okay?"

"This is a touchy subject for you?"

"No."

"Right...your posture right now says it probably is."

"..."

"Alright, I'll give you that one. But I'm making a note and we'll come back to it."

"Whatever."

"So this Dr. Kutner, he had a positive attitude about everything. He seemed to genuinely enjoy being alive...an _every day is a gift_ type of guy."

"..."

"I imagine that made his suicide a bit of a shock."

"…"

"What was your immediate reaction, when you learned of his death?"

"..."

"_How_ did you first learn of his death?"

"He didn't show up for work one morning."

"So...someone went to his home to investigate?"

"Two of my other employees."

"How long did they wait before doing this?"

"They usually get in around eight or nine and I think it was eleven...eleven forty-five. No later than noon."

"He was only a few hours late and you assumed something was wrong?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Kutner was always early and he never missed a day of work. He probably had perfect attendance from kindergarten through graduate school."

"..."

"Actually, I know he did...because I looked it up."

"Why would you seek that particular information?"

"Because I'm a nosy bastard who has nothing better to do."

"Why do you think he was so adamant about his attendance?"

"I don't know."

"Speculate."

"He...was probably afraid he might miss something."

"What is it that he thought he might be missing?"

"_Anything."_

"Such as?"

"Let's say...the one day that he happens to want to stay in bed with a cold just _happens_ to be the same day that alien life finally makes contact with Earth."

"He was a fan of science fiction...fantasy. You mentioned before that he liked Star Trek and Harry Potter."

"Yeah."

"I wonder if the fixation on things fantastic or the subconscious belief that he might miss something significant were a result of the unexpected death of his biological parents."

"..."

"How long had he been dead when they found him?"

"I don't know."

"You don't. Did you read the coroner's report?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. No, I don't believe that."

"..."

"So, how long _had_ he been dead?"

"Nine and a half hours."

"Why did you lie?"

"..."

"You figure the less I think you know, the less I'll ask you?"

"..."

"So he'd been dead since the night prior."

"..."

"When had you seen him last?"

"They day before...around five or so."

"Is that normally when he would end his day?"

"As long as our patient was stable."

"Did he seem upset?"

"He_ never_ seemed upset."

"Did he seem less _cheerful_ than usual?"

"No. He just...seemed the same as always."

"Did anything happen that day or even that week, that you think might have contributed to his decision to end his life?"

"Not that I know of."

"None of your other fellows mentioned anything?"

"No. It was a rather uneventful week. We didn't even have a patient."

"So what did he do, if you didn't have a patient?"

"He spent most of the day seeing patients in the walk-in clinic. He went to lunch with another one of my fellows. I came in late that day. So I didn't even see him until the afternoon, when he came back to the office to get his backpack."

"Why did you come in late?"

"Hangover."

"Any particular reason why you'd gotten drunk the night before?"

"Same reason as every other night."

"Which is?"

"..."

"Right. Did he say anything to you when he left?"

"No. I was at my desk. I had my headphones on. So he...just kind of waved and walked out."

"Did he always make a point of saying _goodbye_ before leaving for the evening?"

"Yeah."

"Did your other fellows make a point of saying goodbye before leaving for the evening?"

"Not really."

"So...sometimes?"

"Maybe...once or twice. But not really."

"What song were you listening to when you saw Dr. Kutner last?"

"Why does it matter?"

"I'm just curious."

"It's...irrelevant."

"Let's assume that it isn't."

"_Jesus Built My Hotrod_."

"That's...there's _really_ a song called that?"

"_Jesus built my car...it's a love affair...mainly Jesus and my hot rod_."

"It's...a Christian song?"

"Uh...not exactly."

"_How_ not exactly?"

"It's more like a...parody."

"Of what?"

"..."

"Right. The reason I asked is...I know of your fondness for music and I was curious if you'd committed that particular detail to memory."

"..."

"Why _did_ you commit that detail to memory?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"I don't know."

"What were you thinking when you were listening to the song and Dr. Kutner stopped to say goodbye?"

"I was...It doesn't matter. It's irrelevant."

"I'll bet it's not."

"..."

"Humor me."

"I was thinking...that he probably liked that song too, that he probably had it on his own iPod."

"Did you consider asking him?"

"..."

"You thought about it, but you didn't. Why?"

"I guess I didn't think it was important."

"Maybe you were thinking that you'd have a chance to ask him later, or maybe get a hold of his iPod and find out for yourself."

"No...I just didn't feel like taking off my headphones and figured he probably wanted to go home anyway."

"Does it make you feel better to tell yourself that your motives were ulterior?"

"No. I just know that they were and don't see the point in denying it."

"Your memory of that day seems to be rather clear."

"It wasn't that long ago."

"Is there anything you'd have liked to have told him that you didn't get a chance to say, anything unresolved between you?"

"Like _what?"_

"Like _anything?"_

"Nothing comes to mind."

"Would you hug him if he were standing here now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I...just wouldn't."

"Because?"

"Because I wouldn't."

"Who was the last person you hugged?"

"..."

"You can't remember?"

"I don't know...my mom maybe."

"When was this?"

"..."

"At your father's funeral."

"Yeah."

"That was over nine months ago."

"So?"

"So...you're telling me that no one has hugged you...you haven't hugged anyone since then."

"..."

"I find that rather distressing."

"..."

"What's _that_ face?"

"You're not going to try and hug me now, are you?"

"You know that I cannot touch you without your permission, for anything that isn't clinically necessary."

"Yeah. I think you and I have different definitions of _necessary_."

"Fair enough. But I would not intentionally violate your personal space, unless the ends justified the means. At this moment I cannot clinically justify the use of a_ hug_."

"..."

"But that doesn't mean I might not _prescribe_ one for you later."

"You can get Nurse Allen to administer it, preferably topless."

"Whatever you say, Greg."

"..."

"Is there anything you said to Dr. Kutner that you wish you hadn't said?"

"..."

"Is there anything you said to him that you probably _shouldn't _have said?"

"..."

"Is that a _yes?"_

"He just...I read people, you know? I can usually figure them out pretty quickly. When I was still in the process of narrowing down the applicants, I made the observation that he was...adopted."

"How did you reach that particular conclusion."

"The fact that he was Indian and had a Germanic last name. I mean if his father were Caucasian, I could see that happening. But from his complexion, it was clear that wasn't the case."

"How exactly did you phrase this observation?"

"I nicknamed him _overly excited former foster kid_."

"How did he react to that statement?"

"I...don't remember."

"But he didn't appear to be bothered by it."

"No."

"_Was_ he overly excited?"

"Yeah."

"Did you have any reason to believe that he was adopted, aside from his last name?"

"No."

"He didn't include that information on his employment application?"

"No."

"So there's no way you could have possibly known how his biological parents died."

"..."

"But you regret making that statement because once you realized how close it was to the truth, it ceased to be amusing."

"..."

"Did he ever bring this up to you, at any point?"

"Nope."

"How often would you say you've thought about him, since he passed away?"

"..."

"_Do_ you think about him?"

"..."

"Do you find yourself missing him at all, even if it's just in a professional sense?"

"…"

"Are you alright?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. I told you that already."

"I do really think we _should_ talk about it though. Would it be okay if we talked about it another day?"

"…"

"Dr. Bendell said you reacted rather strongly when Mary was sharing with the group about her son's suicide, that you eventually got up and left the room and refused to return, even when a Nurse Tuttle came to get you."

"…"

"Greg."

"Just…stop."

"Why do you think you're so reluctant to discuss this?"

"Stop. Stop it. Stop already. Why do you always have to keep pushing?"

"That's kind of my job."

"..."

"I'm sure you're familiar with Newton's law about an object at rest _remaining_ at rest, until specifically directed otherwise."

"..."

"That is what I do."

"..."

"You know, it's okay to cry…even if you don't understand why you're doing it."

"…"

"You _don't _understand this, do you? You have no idea what you're feeling."

"…"

"People cry for a lot of reasons, Greg. None of those are more valid or correct than the others. Grief is very complicated. Even the most well adjusted people often have to do a great deal of emotional labor to make sense of their pain."

"..."

"What did Mary say exactly, that specifically led to your desire to leave the room?"

"What the hell does it matter?"

"Let's assume for the moment that it _does_ matter."

"..."

"Or we could just wait until I've had a chance to speak with Dr. Bendell."

"She was ticked off at her husband."

"What about him? I haven't spoken with her personally. She sees Dr. Pope."

"Her son killed himself a little over a year ago, last June. She said he never seemed depressed…model student, played sports, all that crap. Even his girlfriend didn't see it coming. He apparently acquired a gun through a classmate whose father was in the military, and shot himself in his room one night. A few months after it happened, his dad moved out."

"Generally when a child dies, there's about a fifty percent chance that their parents will not weather the tragedy and emerge as a unit. Was Mary specifically angry at her husband for moving out, or was there more to it than that?"

"I don't know."

"She didn't say?"

"He…told her the reason he was leaving was...that it was her fault."

"Her husband told her that it was her fault their son had killed himself."

"Yes."

"What was his basis for that accusation?"

"..."

"You left before you could hear it."

"..."

"Based on what you _did_ hear, what do you think his reasoning might have been?"

"Seemed like...he thought she should have noticed something wrong."

"But he didn't bear the same responsibility?"

"I guess he traveled a lot and she...was a housewife."

"So she was around her son more than her husband and therefore he felt that she should have picked up on any signs that he was troubled."

"..."

"How old was the son?"

"Maybe...seventeen. She mentioned having ordered his cap and gown for graduation and being pissed that they shipped to her three weeks after his death."

"That's an unfortunate blunder that happens far too often. Why do you think this specifically upset you?"

"I don't know, okay?"

"But it _did_ upset you."

"If I say_ yes_, can we drop it?"

"Dr. Bendell said you were quite upset, that you fled the room as quickly as you could and almost tripped and fell on your way out. Why did you feel compelled to leave so hastily, that you'd be willing to risk injury to do so?"

"…"

"Does it bother you that something may have made you cry, that something could make you cry and you can't understand why, or that something could make you cry when other people are there to witness it?"

"Just stop, please."

"Greg…"

"I said _please_."

"You've been here for six weeks and have yet to shed any tears, despite having admittedly endured quite a few things that would normally elicit a strong emotional reaction."

"_Pretty please?"_

"I don't think I would go so far as to classify you as a sociopath. But the degree of your detachment still concerns me."

"…"

"I think it's important that we address this while it's still fresh."

"It's not _fresh_…he killed himself five months ago. It's old news."

"But your reaction to Mary's story is still fresh. Perhaps you sympathized with her because you know what it's like to feel responsible for someone else's death."

"That has _nothing_ to do with it."

"Which means you know what _does _have something to do with it."

"No. I just know it doesn't have anything to do with _that_."

"Did someone blame you for Dr. Kutner's death?"

"…"

"Did someone imply that you might somehow be responsible?"

"…"

"Did someone suggest…"

"I did, okay? _I_ did."

"You…believe yourself to be the reason this man committed suicide? What exactly are you basing that on?"

"No…"

"You just said..."

"_I_ told _them._ I told them it was their fault."

"That Dr. Kutner's death was _their _fault? Who..?"

"His parents."

"Why would you think it was their fault?"

"…"

"You think they should have seen it coming?"

"..."

"This is why you so deeply affected by Mary's story."

"This is giving me a headache."

"How did they respond to that accusation?"

"Seriously...my head."

"I'll get you some Tylenol as soon as we're done here."

"I'll bet."

"So did they demand an explanation?"

"..."

"Were they angry?"

"It was cruel, you know?"

"What was?"

"Telling them…there was no reason for it. Even if it was their fault. It probably wasn't. I mean it _could_ be. They could have tortured the kid for all I know, or maybe they were the best parents in the whole world. They seemed...decent. He didn't seem like he'd been...mistreated. I mean he was...their son had just killed himself. They must have been completely beside themselves with grief. There was no justifiable reason to..."

"Why _did _you say it?"

"I don't know."

"Do you wish you _hadn't_ said it?"

"..."

"Do you find that happening to you often?"

"..."

"From my limited observation anyway, it seems like you periodically say things you don't really mean and then later end up regretting it or wondering why."

"..."

"Did you make any attempt to apologize?"

"…"

"Maybe you'd feel better if you told them the truth."

"I'm just some crazy, old doctor that their kid did a fellowship under. They don't give a crap what I think."

"Maybe _you_ give a crap what _they _think."

"I'm not going to traumatize them further just to ease my subconscious."

"You don't think you deserve to feel better."

"No…I just…I know that I won't. So there's no reason to drag them into it. They've probably long forgotten about it anyway."

"It wouldn't make you feel better to tell them the truth. But not telling them the truth is hurting you."

"It's not…it's…just drop it."

"You don't think you're hurting?"

"It's...not the same thing at all."

"I see. Their suffering is more important than your suffering. How selfless of you to dismiss yourself like that."

"Yeah, that's me. I'm the gift that keeps on giving."

"Perhaps you could apologize indirectly, send flowers or money to help with the burial costs."

"Funeral was five months ago."

"That doesn't mean the gesture would be wasted, or that it wouldn't provide you with some absolution."

"No...that's exactly what it means."

"Then you_ do_ want some sort of absolution."

"..."

"Do you feel responsible for Dr. Kutner's death?"

"..."

"I'm not asking if you genuinely believe that you're responsible. This isn't a matter of logic or reason. I'm asking if you _feel_ that you are. Feeling and thinking are two different things."

"..."

"I'm seeing some major parallels here."

"Of _course_ you are."

"That bothers you."

"Oh, hell no. Please tell me what they are. Use finger puppets if you have to."

"You're reluctant to share your feelings because you assume people either won't believe you, or they won't care."

"Yeah, it's_ that_ simple."

"You disagree?"

"I disagree with any assessment of my life that sounds like it was pulled out of a fortune cookie."

"You told me that you never informed your mother about your father's disciplinary methods, despite being very dissatisfied with them, and having multiple opportunities to do so. You didn't assert your right to not give the eulogy at your father's funeral, or even explain to your mother why you might be hesitant to do so. You didn't bother trying to comfort James in his grief, even though you were truly sympathetic, because you assumed you would either fail or he'd be unreceptive. You didn't attempt to address his reasons for leaving, _or_ coming back. And then there's the fact that you're harboring some secret, ambiguous degree of attraction for him, which isn't purely platonic, but he apparently knows nothing about. You're content to let people make assumptions about you, even when they are nowhere close to the truth. And you continue to play the role of the villain because you think that's what people expect."

"Well...somebody's got to do it. You know how I just _hate _to disappoint people."

"But it's not you, Greg. That's not who you really are."

"You think you know me? You think you have me all figured out? Please. You don't know the half of it. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"On the contrary, I don't think _you_ have any idea what you're capable of. I think you're completely oblivious to your own integrity or capacity for goodness."

"..."

"Because if you really are a villain, someone to be despised, then it's okay for people...even the people closest to you, to disregard your feelings. It's okay for them to mistreat you or use you or regard you as irrelevant, because you deserve it. You don't want to consider what deeper issues your father might have had, or even what feelings he might have had, that could explain his behavior. Because then maybe it had nothing to do with you at all. Maybe you didn't do anything wrong. And if that were the case, then your father's inability to accept you wasn't your fault and doesn't make any sense. There was no reason for it, just like Dr. Kutner's death, just like Amber's death. It was something completely out of your control that couldn't have been avoided or foreseen, and that no words or deeds could possibly repair or undo."

"..."

"You deserve to have your feelings heard. You deserve to have your needs met, or at the very least acknowledged."

"Great, thanks. I'll get right on that. I should probably send out a memo..._Hey, everybody. I've got needs and feelings. Make a note of it."_

"I'm not implying that you should be able to instantaneously change the way you think and relate to other people, simply because I've brought these things to your attention. Any worthwhile growth we make tends to happen slowly, over time."

"How much time, doc? How much time are we looking at here? I'm not a kid anymore. I just turned half a century old. It's not like I have my _whole life_ ahead of me or anything."

"You have the_ rest_ of your life ahead of you."

"Yeah...that could be weeks or days for all you know."

"..."

"Or hours, or minutes."

"Are you thinking about killing yourself?"

"..."

"Legally, I need to know."

"You going to _isolate_ me again?"

"Do I _need_ to isolate you?"

"No."

"Why do you say things like that?"

"I don't know."

"No, I actually don't think you do."

"..."

"If you're looking for someone to give you permission to give up, it isn't going to be me."

"I don't _need_ your permission."

"No, you don't. But you're hoping I'll award it to you indirectly, by succumbing to your attempts to prove to me that you're a lost cause."

"I don't care about _proving_ anything to you. It's not my fault that you're too dense to see what a waste of time I am."

"Why are you a waste of time?"

"..."

"Why do you think you're a lost cause?"

"Because nothing is going to change. Sitting here...this is a joke. You think if I _tell_ you stuff, I'll be magically healed."

"I don't recall professing to be skilled in magic. I told you the first day you were here that therapy is work...for both of us. There's no magic involved here."

"..."

"I know this goes against everything you've come to believe about yourself. But you're not nearly as messed up as you seem to think. These issues you're dealing with are very common, very reasonable and very treatable. I regret to inform you that you are in fact, a fairly normal human being."

"Right. Sorry my problems aren't interesting or complicated enough for you."

"I never said I wasn't interested. I know you have very specific standards for that which you consider to be worthy of your attention. Don't assume all doctors operate similarly."

"..."

"My point is, I've seen people who were faced with much darker things and managed to heal. You can too."

"What the hell do you know about darkness?"

"I don't know, Greg. What _do _I know? What _should_ I know?"

"..."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"I'm not...like those people."

"Why?"

"Because I don't care if I get better."

"I don't believe you."

"..."

"I think deep down, you realize how much you need this. I think that underneath your facade, you desperately want to be able to accept my help. You're afraid to hope that you could get better, because you know it might not work."

"No. I just already know that it won't work and don't see the point of wasting your time _and_ my time."

"Tell you what, Greg. How about you just show up and let me decide what I think _is_ and isn't a waste of my time."

"Fine."

"Is it?"

"No. But I don't feel like fighting with you over it either."

"Okay."

"..."

"We still have another few minutes."

"Oh great."

"So tell me about this gift exchange."

"..."

"Who organized it?"

"Nobody."

"But you did exchange gifts."

"No."

"Then...what happened?"

"Nothing."

"If that were true, you wouldn't look so anxious."

"I'm not _anxious_. I thought we were done and I started to stand up."

"..."

"It...was a social experiment."

"Whose?"

"..."

"You mean_ you_ were conducting a social experiment."

"..."

"What were you hoping to learn?"

"How easy it would be to create dissention between four people."

"Why would you need to do that?"

"They work better when they're scared."

"Scared of what?"

"_Anything_...being fired, looking stupid, their coworkers being more clever than they are."

"But you weren't planning to fire any of them, not after you'd gone to all that trouble to hire them."

"..."

"So...technically your experiment was pointless."

"I...never mind. You wouldn't understand."

"You think I've never conducted any social experiments. It's kind of my business. Usually they have a point."

"I gave them all my name."

"What do you mean?"

"They drew names out of a hat."

"And they were all yours."

"Yeah."

"Why would you do that, aside from the obvious?"

"..."

"Did they reveal that information to each other prematurely?"

"Yep."

"And that's what you wanted to see, whether or not they'd betray each other or betray you."

"..."

"Did you set a limit on how much they could spend?"

"Twenty-five bucks."

"Did you get any gifts?"

"Yeah."

"From which employees?"

"All of them?"

"Did you get any _other_ gifts?"

"I...don't know what you mean."

"From...friends or family?"

"No. I mean, Wilson gave me a book. My mom sent a card."

"So that doesn't count?"

"I didn't open the book. I mean I did...but not until a year later."

"Why not?"

"His girlfriend bought it."

"You mean Amber or the woman who was his patient?"

"Amber. But I didn't know it was her at the time. I just knew he was dating someone...I could kind of tell. But also...it was clear that a woman had written the card."

"Why?"

"The penmanship was even girlier than Wilson's ordinarily girly writing. Also he addressed it _to Greg_."

"He doesn't call you Greg. What does he call you?"

"House."

"Ah. I did notice you prefer to be called that. That's what Alvie calls you."

"And yet you continue to call me _Greg_."

"I think it's important to refer to my patients by their first names."

"Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy."

"No, it's just more professional. It reinforces the fact that in this setting at least, I am the doctor and you are the patient."

"Like I could forget."

"So...your team actually bought you gifts."

"Yeah."

"What did you get?"

"A wrist watch, a vintage LP, a sweater, and a second edition Conan Doyle."

"You a fan of Holmes?"

"..."

"What did Dr. Kutner give you?"

"The watch."

"Was is it a nice watch?"

"It was...waterproof."

"Did you wear it?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Did you already have a watch?"

"I have sixteen watches."

"But you still wore the one he gave you."

"..."

"Why?"

"It was...a nice watch."

"What make was it?"

"BCBG."

"I wasn't aware that BCBG made watches for twenty-five dollars."

"They don't."

"So he spent more."

"Apparently."

"How _much_ more?"

"About a hundred."

"Did any of the others spend that much?"

"No."

"How did that make you feel, that he would do that?"

"..."

"You don't know."

"..."

"You stated previously that he didn't care if people liked him. Yet he voluntarily went one hundred dollars over the spending limit when purchasing your gift."

"..."

"His job was already secure. So even if his motives weren't specifically related to his affinity for you, they weren't related to his employment either."

"Yeah yeah, he liked me. I get it. Thanks. He liked everybody."

"I suppose he bought designer watches for everyone then."

"..."

"And you liked him too."

"..."

"It's hard, isn't it? If you acknowledge that he liked you, then you might have to admit that you liked him. And if you liked him, that means you might have to grieve him. You might even have to miss him."

"..."

"_Do_ you miss him?"

"..."

"It's a simple question. You either do or you don't. I'm not asking you if you _loved_ him, if you admired him, if you'd throw yourself in front of a train for him or if he was your most favorite person in the world. I'm not even asking you if he was important to you. I'm asking if you miss him, if you find yourself thinking of him, realizing that he's not there and remembering that he's never going to be."

"He had all the ideas."

"What ideas?"

"I mean...they're all smart. It wasn't like they just sat there and he did all the work. But he trusted himself. He was willing to tell me that I was wrong, even if I wasn't. He wasn't worried about anyone thinking his ideas were stupid, even if they were."

"So when you say he had _all the ideas_, you don't mean he had the right ones. It's that the others were more reluctant to contribute during the differential because they were afraid of being wrong."

"Yeah."

"If he wasn't afraid to tell you that you were wrong, even if you weren't, that means he wasn't intimidated by you. And if he wasn't intimidated by you, that means he somehow saw through your facade. He respected you professionally, while still being able to appreciate your humanity."

"No humanity."

"Hmm...you want to believe that, I think. But you know that he wasn't an idiot and he wasn't naive, and if he could see it, then it must exist."

"..."

"When he was around, you felt like a real human being."

"..."

"And you miss that, don't you?"

"..."

"Greg...you've got to stop this. Stop pretending that it doesn't hurt. Stop trying to convince yourself that it doesn't matter."

"..."

"It's comfortable, I know. And comfortable seems like it would be better in theory. But it's not healthy.

"I...can't just..."

"Just what?"

"I can't _just_."

"Why not?"

"It's not that simple."

"It _is_ that simple."

"..."

"It's tough to give up that security blanket. You think...there's no way you can live without it. This dysfunction...this self loathing, it's never done anything for you. It doesn't deserve your energy or your loyalty."

"It works for me."

"Because you solve cases?"

"..."

"We've been over this. Who you are is_ not_ your misery. You would be no less a doctor without your emotional baggage. Your education would be no less useful. Life is not so easily sliced into chocolate and vanilla extremes. We have to take some of each until we find the flavor that is palatable to us. You can learn to be happy without losing the essence of who you are and if anyone has told you different, they've done you a great disservice."

"..."

"How's your head?"

"..."

"Does it still hurt?"

"No."

"Our time is up for today. But Greg...If by some chance you're ever ready to talk about whatever it is that you're_ not_ feeling, please feel free. That's why you and I are here."


	5. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 3

_House discusses his father some more with Dr. Nolan. Very sensitive subject matter._**

* * *

**

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"I wanted to pick up where we left off yesterday."

"..."

"We were discussing the fact that you're emotionally detached."

"You mean_ you_ were."

"Okay, _I_ was. And you were staring at me blankly."

"Hey, I've spent weeks perfecting that."

"But you've implied on several occasions that your feelings were irrelevant to your parents, more specifically your father."

"Yeah."

"I'm curious at what point in your life you begin compensating for that by stifling your emotions."

"..."

"What sort of person would you say you were, back then?"

"I was actually born middle aged...Strange congenital defect. Made for a _really_ inconvenient delivery."

"How would you characterize yourself as a child?"

"I wouldn't."

"Let's say you had to...come up with an adjective."

"Young."

"More specifically."

"Short?"

"You're rather tall now."

"I sprung up around tenth grade. Before that I was usually the shortest kid in the class. HGH is magical stuff."

"_Have_ you used steroids?"

"Have you used a drug that makes you take everything literally?"

"How did you relate to your peers?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't have any friends?"

"I had...acquaintances."

"Much more convenient than forming actual connections with other human beings...much less messy."

"Exactly."

"But you did spend a certain portion of time with your peers, at school perhaps. You indicated that you'd played organized sports and were involved in music."

"Yeah."

"How did you interact with your classmates and teammates?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Did you get along with them?"

"Not...especially."

"So there was conflict."

"No."

"Then...what was there?"

"There was nothing. I was quiet and...they left me alone, for the most part."

"You were quiet."

"That surprises you?"

"No, actually. It doesn't."

"Right."

"But surely there were times that you had no choice but to socially interact, physical education, group projects and other extracurricular activities."

"Yeah."

"And how was that?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"It was a long time ago. All those terrible drugs have fried my memory."

"Nice try. During those very brief moments when you were interacting with your peers, did you find that were you sensitive to criticism?"

"..."

"Were your feelings easily hurt?"

"..."

"_Were_ you ever the object of criticism?"

"What kid _isn't_ the object of criticism?"

"Were you ever the victim of bullying?"

"..."

"What's _that_ expression?"

"What?"

"You rolled your eyes."

"So?"

"Why?"

"I just find it amusing that you would ask that question."

"Why?"

"Do I seem like someone who would be the victim of a bully? Haven't you noticed? I kind of _am_ a bully."

"Hmm...no. I don't think so. You like to screw with people. But there's a point to it. I don't think you're vindictive."

"Well you haven't known me long enough to appreciate my mad skills."

"And someone who cannot or will not assert their feelings or needs tends to make a quintessential victim. The fact that you were being invalidated at home pretty much ensured it."

"..."

"That's not the answer you were expecting, was it?"

"..."

"So...I'm pretty sure I already know the answer. But were you ever bullied?"

"Does right now count?

"I understand if you're uncomfortable with the question. But since it's clear that I already know the answer, you have no reason to not reply."

"If you already know the answer then why do I _need _to reply?"

"You know why."

"..."

"In what way were you bullied?"

"Just...you know...the usual stuff."

"Like what?"

"..."

"Stealing lunch money, _my dad can beat up your dad_, that sort of thing?"

"Sort of."

"Were you ever beaten up?"

"..."

"That question makes you uncomfortable."

"..."

"The reason I ask is because a love hate relationship with violence and conflict usually implies one of two things. You either have a limited experience with those things, or you have too much."

"Yeah, doc? Aren't you clever. Which do you think it was?"

"Based on what you've told me already, the second one."

"..."

"Did your parents ever know?"

"What do you think?"

"That's why I'm asking."

"Not...really."

"You tried to hide it."

"..."

"Why?"

"My dad wasn't very fond of the idea that his own son, albeit not biological, could not defend himself."

"You couldn't defend yourself? You got into a fist fight with another patient here who outweighed you by fifty pounds. You're physically handicapped and you still managed to come out uninjured."

"I took up boxing in college."

"So you could defend yourself."

"No...actually it was to impress chicks. Being able to defend myself was just an added bonus."

"So your parents were for the most part unaware that you were being bullied at school."

"I never said it was at school."

"Then where was it?"

"You think the only place kids go is to school?"

"Where else did you go?"

"..."

"How would your parents react, if you attempted to share your concerns with them?"

"..."

"Did you ever attempt to assert your feelings about what was happening to you?"

"That would have been kind of fruitless."

"Why?"

"..."

"So even as a child, you were reluctant to express yourself emotionally. Things just rolled right off your back, and you never bothered your parents with them."

"..."

"You were perhaps even getting...pummeled by someone on a regular basis and you just...accepted it, never asked for help, simply took everything in stride."

"..."

"You must have been a very brave, little boy."

"Fuck you."

"Am I wrong? If I'm wrong, by all means, please correct me."

"You're goading me now? That's mature."

"No...I would just rather know the truth than make assumptions. But I can't know the truth unless you tell me what it is."

"Asshole."

"I need you to help me out here, Greg."

"I wasn't brave and I wasn't tough. Drop it."

"Why would you say that?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"Well...obviously I was getting my ass kicked and my lunch money lifted at school every day. I couldn't even walk home without being rolled by pimps and bookies."

"That's why I said _perhaps_."

"I'm pretty sure that's what you pictured in your mind."

"So if that would qualify as an exaggeration, why don't you tell me how it really went?"

"..."

"Why would you say you weren't tough?"

"Because I wasn't."

"And I would like very much to understand why you think that is."

"I'll bet."

"..."

"I didn't _stifle_ my emotions."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning _I didn't stifle my emotions_."

"_Meaning?"_

"I wasn't _un_emotional, okay? I was the exact opposite."

"In what sense?"

"I was a..._whiny,_ little piece of shit who cried about everything."

"It sounds like you're being rather hard on yourself."

"No. I _really_ was a whiny, little piece of shit."

"Are those your words or someone else's?"

"..."

"Explain that to me."

"..."

"Greg...You can't make a statement like that and not explain it."

"I cried for no reason at all."

"Somehow I doubt there was _no_ reason."

"I cried the second I realized what was going to happen, before he even _did_ anything. I cried even though I was guilty. I was _usually_ guilty. Hell, I was almost always guilty. I just couldn't seem to stop doing...whatever. I didn't care, okay? I only cried so he'd feel sorry for me and stop."

"_He_...you mean your father?"

"..."

"Your peers didn't bully you. Your _father_ bullied you."

"..."

"Did he ever cause you any actual injury?"

"It wasn't like that."

"Then how was it?"

"It was more...I don't know."

"Verbal?"

"Yeah."

"Did he ever hit you with a closed fist?"

"No...I mean, once when I was in my twenties. He took a swing at me."

"But you'd already taken up boxing by then."

"Yeah."

"Did you hit him back?"

"Yeah."

"How did he respond to that?"

"He looked surprised."

"Why do you think that is?"

"He...probably didn't think I had it in me."

"How did your relationship change after that?"

"We never...I stopped coming home for Christmas...stopped calling them."

"Did they call you?"

"_She_ did."

"Why didn't he?"

"Why do you think?"

"Okay...getting back to the original topic. It seems like you feel that shedding tears in response to the prospect of some ambiguous physical punishment constitutes an overreaction."

"..."

"And you're embarrassed of this...to the point that you'd avoid confronting it for over thirty years. Why?"

"..."

"Greg, that's perfectly normal behavior for a child...textbook even."

"It's pathetic."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true."

"I don't agree."

"But you weren't there."

"But you could tell me what happened. You could tell me what it was like. Then I could understand."

"..."

"_Did_ your father ever feel sorry for you?"

"I could have been bleeding to death and he probably wouldn't have felt sorry for me."

"Were you ever bleeding to death?"

"Not when I was living under_ his_ roof."

"So you instinctively did whatever it was that you thought might elicit his sympathy, using the only means you had at the time. I see no reason to be ashamed of that."

"…"

"Humans are by nature emotional creatures. They learn as early as six months of age that they can cry in order to manipulate their circumstances. This is necessary in order to ensure their survival."

"I wasn't a baby."

"But you _were_ a human being. Or are you disputing that now as well?"

"..."

"I have lab results that confirm you are indeed human."

"…"

"How old were you when you did this?"

"Too old."

"And how old is _too old?"_

"…"

"So…walk me through it. You'd be in trouble for some miscellaneous offense and he'd announce that you were going to punished and you'd just start crying? How would he react?"

"…"

"Greg."

"I'm not having this conversation."

"I understand that this is hard to talk about."

"No...no, you really _don't_."

"How would he react?"

"Oh, you know...same party line. He'd…tell that if I didn't stop he'd _really give me something to cry about_."

"As I'm sure you're well aware, that threat is a bit of a cliche. Did he make good on it?"

"…"

"Did you always calm down when he demanded it?"

"Eventually."

"What happened before then?"

"…"

"How would he force you to comply? How did he go about making you calm down?"

"He...didn't _do_ anything. I told you, it wasn't like that."

"He didn't do anything to force you. He must have done something to achieve the desired result, if you were as reluctant as you say."

"..."

"Greg?"

"I was making a big deal out of nothing..._always_ making a big deal out of nothing."

"What do you mean by that? What were you making a _big deal_ out of?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"Lots of kids got spanked back then. Most of them deserved it. _I _deserved it. People make a big deal about it these days. But really...it's nothing. It didn't hurt that bad. He was right. I was getting worked up over nothing. I should have just sucked it up and gotten it over with."

"It _didn't hurt_."

"..."

"You told me in a previous session that he struck you with a leather belt or a wooden paddle, sometimes directly on bare skin. Even if it the force was sufficient to constitute abuse, it still sounds like it would be painful, and it would have been even more so for a child."

"I'm just saying, it could have been a lot worse."

"Okay. That's true. He could have bashed your head in or burned you with hot pokers. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. The fact that something could have been better or worse, doesn't mean it didn't affect you. Everything is relative."

"It wasn't that bad…really."

"Are you sure? Are you sure you're not just telling yourself that, so it will make it okay for him to have disregarded your feelings?"

"It's not like he…forced me."

"He didn't."

"..."

"Then what _did _he do? How did he get you to comply?"

"He _didn't_. He'd just...wait."

"Wait _how?"_

"Wherever we were...basement, garage...my room. He'd leave and say…I couldn't come out until I was ready."

"Ready for what?"

"..."

"Ready for what, Greg?"

"To...accept my punishment without complaint."

"Hmm. And you _did _that...accepted your punishment without complaint?"

"Heh...not even close."

"How long were you normally confined before you...complied?"

"I don't know. It varied."

"Did you usually cave easily?"

"What do_ you_ think?"

"So you'd wait it out, to see if he would cave first."

"..."

"_Did_ he ever cave first?"

"No."

"And yet you continued to hope he would."

"..."

"What was the longest you waited?"

"…"

"It doesn't have to be an exact number. Just guess."

"Overnight."

"He locked you up in some capacity for the entire evening?"

"Out."

"What?"

"He locked me _out_."

"He kicked you out of the house, locked the door, didn't let you in until morning."

"Yeah."

"Where did you sleep?"

"In the yard."

"What time of year was it? Was it cold?"

"It wasn't…it was summer and we were in Texas. Couldn't have been less than fifty degrees at night...although there were coyotes."

"Where in the yard did you sleep?"

"On a pile of old newspapers behind the garage."

"How many times did you spend the night outside like that?"

"Just the once."

"How old were you?"

"It was the end of June. So I'd just turned thirteen."

"Do you remember what you'd done to specifically upset your father on that occasion?"

"Said something I shouldn't have...pretty much the story of my life."

"What did you say?"

"I don't remember, probably something stupid."

"Couldn't have been _too_ stupid."

"..."

"Can you remember the subject matter?"

"I expressed an...unpopular political opinion."

"Um...do you remember what it was?"

"I implied that the American government had no business sending soldiers to Vietnam, that it wasn't our war to fight."

"That's not an terribly _uncommon_ opinion."

"Yeah...I was living on a military base that was littered with vets. In Corpus Christi Texas, no less. So you can imagine how well it was received."

"Right. So...how did you go about expressing this opinion?"

"Dinner table."

"Did you normally converse with your parents during dinner?"

"No...not really. My dad didn't like people talking when he was trying to eat."

"Not even his wife and son?"

"Especially not his wife and son."

"So why did you take this specific opportunity to speak up?"

"My father had some...guests."

"Other military personnel?"

"Yeah. One of them was like his...second cousin, once removed or something."

"And you thought this would be a good time to express your disdain for the war in Vietnam."

"They were going on about all the people they knew who had died, and what a shame it was that they'd left wives and children behind."

"And that bothered you."

"..."

"Why did that bother you? You felt perhaps they were being hypocritical? I've noticed that you're particularly sensitive to hypocrisy."

"..."

"So how did your father react when you expressed this particular opinion?"

"He wasn't happy."

"Naturally. But what did he say?"

"He...sent me away from the table."

"Sent you where?"

"To my room."

"What did he say?"

"I don't remember exactly."

"Then what?"

"Then...I stayed there until his buddies left."

"And then what happened?"

"He...came for me."

"Came for you to do _what?"_

"..."

"Greg?"

"I don't...remember."

"You seem to have a pretty decent memory of the event so far."

"..."

"What _do_ you remember?"

"I…can't. This is…I shouldn't be telling you this."

"It's okay if you _do_ remember. It's okay to tell me this."

"..."

"Whatever it is you said or did, no matter why you said or did it, it's okay."

"This is…nobody's business. It's not even interesting, really. I'm...wasting your time."

"I've told you already, time spent conversing with you is not a waste. I want to hear these things."

"Sure, it's your job."

"Don't do that. Don't assign motives to my behavior. My interest is fundamentally professional. But that doesn't mean I don't care."

"Why the hell would you care? You don't even _know_ me."

"I'm_ trying_ to get to know you."

"..."

"Considering the number of hours we've spent together in this office, I can't help wondering if there are many people in your life that know you any better than I do right now."

"..."

"What do you think will happen if you tell me these things?"

"Nothing…that's not…nothing. Just drop it."

"You want to talk about something else?"

"No."

"I think we should keep talking, either way."

"…"

"Why don't we talk about your meds."

"..."

"You're taking Bupropion...three hundred milligrams daily, Loxapine...twenty milligrams, twice daily. You're down to two hundred milligrams on the methadone. That's good. Ativan...the note says _up to two milligrams_. It doesn't say...how often do you find you're needing that?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"It's not like I didn't have a choice."

"A choice about what?"

"..."

"You_ chose_ to sleep outside."

"..."

"I assume that was more attractive than the alternative."

"..."

"What was the alternative?"

"..."

"How did your father react to your choice?"

"I'm sure he was disappointed."

"Was he frequently disappointed?"

"..."

"Did he actually say that he was disappointed? Perhaps you misinterpreted. Perhaps he would have wanted you to accept your punishment and get it over with, instead of choosing to sleep in the yard."

"..."

"We talked about this before, if you recall...your aversion to succumbing to anything that might prove...unpleasant."

"I had to ask."

"Ask what?"

"I had to _ask_."

"You mean the next morning, you had to ask to come back inside?"

"No...I mean_ yes_. I did. But...no."

"What did you have to ask him, Greg?"

"I...never mind. Let's...talk about the meds."

"Are you sure? I think you have something else that you want to tell me."

"No. It's...no."

"Take a deep breath and just tell me when you're ready."

"No."

"Okay. Whatever you like."

"I had to be…polite, say _please_, call him _Sir_."

"As though he were your superior officer."

"..."

"This is good. I know it's hard. But this happened a long time ago. Now you're here in this room, and the things that you're telling me here, _stay_ here. There will be no consequences."

"You have no idea. Everything has consequences, _everything_."

"This won't. I promise."

"That...means absolutely nothing to me."

"I can't speak for anyone else that you've met or who you've yet to meet. But I've had this office for seven years now and I've never broken any promises that I've made in here."

"..."

"What did you have to ask him? Did you have to ask him to _do_ something?"

"It."

"_It_…to let you back inside or...out of wherever you were?"

"No. Forget it."

"Just tell me."

"I said forget it."

"Okay."

"..."

"Oh...you had to _ask_ him to punish you."

"..."

"I can't imagine that wasn't incredibly difficult, especially knowing what was coming. You'd spent the night outside for the sake of avoiding punishment, and you ended up getting it anyway."

"..."

"Tell me about that experience."

"..."

"Okay. Do you have any specific concerns about your medication?"

"No."

"Any questions?"

"No."

"Are you experiencing any side effects?"

"..."

"I think you still have something that you'd like to tell me."

"..."

"No?"

"I mean, maybe. I just...forget it."

"Alright."

"After…he wanted me to…I had to phrase it a certain way."

"After what? Phrase it how?"

"I couldn't…it wasn't officially _over_ until…"

"Until what? What did he want you to say?"

"I can't..."

"You can. You made it this far. You _can_ tell me."

"_Thank you_."

"Wait...for what?"

"That's what I had to say. I had to say what I'd done. I look him in the eye and thank him…and if I didn't sound sincere..."

"What would happen?"

"He'd..."

"Keep going?"

"..."

"You mean he'd keep hitting you?"

"Until I got it right."

"_Were_ you sincere?"

"What do _you_ think?"

"I imagine you weren't in the right frame of mind to be remotely appreciative of your father's discipline, regardless of what his intention might have been."

"..."

"So your father viewed his taking the time to discipline you as a favor, for which you should be grateful. You were expected to refrain from emotional outbursts for the duration, to..._calmly_ ask him to do this, to specifically state why you deserved to be disciplined and then to thank him genuinely afterwards."

"Yes."

"Was this _all_ the time or just some of the time?"

"…"

"Greg...I know of no healthy, well adjusted child that would willingly succumb to corporal punishment without putting up some sort of fight or shedding some tears. Even the bravest kids make a fuss over such things. I don't think your hesitation to accept your punishment, whether you deserved it or not, qualifies you as a coward."

"..."

"From your expression, I'd say that you disagree."

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"..."

"Are you going to be sick?"

"I…no. It'll pass."

"I'm not sure how to explain this exactly. You stated that it didn't hurt that bad, that you should have just sucked it up. But I don't think the physical pain or the actual severity of the punishment was what made these specific events traumatic. He humiliated and debased you in order to gain control, probably because he had no idea how else to do it. That doesn't make it okay. It's possible that he received such treatment himself at some point, during his military career or his own childhood, that it seemed perfectly acceptable to treat you the same way. He was doing what he'd been taught. And you…simply did whatever you thought you had to do in order to spare yourself further trauma, which is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn't the pain you were afraid of. It was the humiliation. And no one likes to be humiliated, Greg. It doesn't matter how old you are. There's no age at which we suddenly become immune to being hurt or invalidated."

"No."

"What do you mean, _no?"_

"I mean, no. The humiliation wasn't the cause. It was the effect."

"The effect of what?"

"..."

"Of not…cooperating?"

"..."

"So you think that if you hadn't cried, if you'd just stuffed your emotions and cooperated, he would never have had to force you to say those things."

"You don't get it."

"What don't I get? I want to get it, Greg. Help me get it."

"I've never told anyone this."

"That's kind of why you're here."

"No."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"No."

"I can see you're having a tough time with this. Would it be okay if I put my hand on your hand? Some patients find that physical contact is helpful. I know you've said before that you'd rather I..."

"Don't touch me."

"Right. Sorry. Okay, I won't."

"..."

"I know this is hard. I realize that this defies logic, that it seems like talking about it might make you feel worse. But you _will _feel better, if you just tell me."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"What about this subject makes you uncomfortable?"

"Just stop."

"Are you afraid something might happen to you, if someone finds out that you told me these things?"

"No."

"Are you just...embarrassed?"

"..."

"Perhaps it's painful to be reminded of these things."

"..."

"I'm not going to judge you. Whatever happened, it's okay. It doesn't matter what it was. It doesn't matter what you did or didn't do or say. We can talk about it and make sense of it together."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"_Yes."_

"This is...you don't get it. It's...private."

"I understand that. And privacy is a good thing to acknowledge and utilize. But some things we simply weren't meant to keep to ourselves."

"..."

"Your dad's definition of private is not _the_ definition, Greg."

"This is...I don't know."

"There's nothing you could possibly tell me that would shock or surprise me."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Then what do you think is the source of your apprehension?"

"..."

"I'm not going to judge you, if that's what you think."

"..."

"You can be...vague."

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"I don't know."

"Just...be vague and let me connect the dots."

"I...told you that sometimes I had to..."

"To _what?"_

"It wasn't really _that_...having to do it wasn't _that_ unreasonable, I _guess_. I mean, I wasn't thrilled about it. Who would be? But I couldn't..."

"Couldn't what?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. You can continue to be vague. But you're going to have to be a little more specific, if you want me to understand this."

"I couldn't...he wanted...I had to...keep my hands at my sides, stand at attention. And so...I couldn't very well..."

"..."

"Get it?"

"You...had to keep your hands at your sides. You mean while you were being punished?"

"..."

"And you said you occasionally had to drop your pants in order to be disciplined. So I'm assuming that after doing so, you were expected to keep your hands at your sides. So you weren't allowed to use them to conceal your genitals."

"..."

"I see."

"..."

"Was this a regular thing or was this just the morning after he'd locked you out?"

"Just...that time and a few other times."

"So maybe...really serious offenses?"

"Depended on where we were living at the time."

"Do you remember what you specifically did to warrant that kind of discipline?"

"..."

"Some psychologists believe that depending on the personality of the child, corporal punishment conducted in that fashion can have the same effect as sexual abuse, even if the person administering it had no such intentions."

"It wasn't like that."

"Like what?"

"I already told you, he didn't _molest_ me. God..."

"I realize that he never actually touched you in a deliberately sexual capacity. More than likely that was the furthest thing from his mind. But he forced you to expose yourself in front of him, at a period in your life during which most males experience the height of modesty about their bodies…meaning that from then on, you would subconsciously associate your nudity with shame and humiliation."

"He didn't force…"

"Greg, there are other ways to coerce people into doing things besides physical violence. Thousands of cult members have been brainwashed by words alone."

"I wasn't...brainwashed."

"No...but you _were _manipulated. And just knowing that you were manipulated is traumatic. Because you're highly intelligent, and clever and it serves as a reminder that at some point, you were not in control of what was happening to your body. That breeds feelings of shame, based on the misconception that you should have been able to do something to stop it, when deep down you realize that there probably wasn't. The result is an internal struggle that has the potential to eat you up from the inside out, if you never have the opportunity or ability to resolve it."

"..."

"How did you feel about having to do this? I know I've asked before, and you've implied that maybe it was humiliating, that you might have been scared. But you're reluctant to give me a straight answer. I want to know how you felt, in your own words. I want to help you work through this."

"..."

"Yes...you can."

"I don't know. I guess I just...hated it, the whole experience."

"You guess?"

"No. I know. It's just...the reason I hated it...it's not what you'd think."

"What do you _think_ I think?"

"I don't know. Forget it."

"No...I'd like to know what you think_ I_ think is the reason you might have hated this."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"We're almost done here...twelve more minutes. Let's just wrap this up and we'll let it go for today."

"..."

"Give me one word...an adjective."

"..."

"Or any word at all."

"It wasn't his fault."

"Wait, you mean your father? _What_ wasn't his fault?"

"I just mean, what he _did _was his fault. Obviously, he chose to...but how it made me feel wasn't."

"You mean...that you cried?"

"No."

"Then, how _did_ it make you feel?"

"…"

"It's okay."

"I…God."

"Take your time."

"It's not like it happened more than once or twice. I just...Fuck. I don't know."

"Um...I'm just going to hazard a guess here. Is that okay? Please feel free to correct me immediately if I'm way off base."

"..."

"Were you aroused?"

"…"

"Did you get an erection?"

"…"

"Greg…that's not unusual _at all_. As a doctor, I'm sure you know that during puberty, boys will become aroused by any number of things. Just being naked is arousing. And it doesn't even have to be sexual arousal. Excitement or fear can increase blood flow to the penis and cause it to become engorged. It doesn't mean you enjoyed what was happening to you or that it wasn't traumatic."

"..."

"Did your father notice this?"

"..."

"Did he chastise you in some manner?"

"God...no. It wasn't like...he didn't say anything."

"So it was just the fact that your body had responded inappropriately to that experience that concerned you."

"It wasn't just...forget it. Forget it."

"No. This is obviously important. I think it's worthwhile for us to try and figure out why."

"No."

"It wasn't_ just_ that. So there was something else."

"..."

"Did you have...dreams?"

"..."

"Don't look so surprised, Greg. I told you that it wasn't that unusual."

"..."

"So the dreams were about your father?"

"Sort of. No. Not exactly."

"What were they about?"

"..."

"Okay...once again, I'm going to hazard a guess. I want you to correct me immediately if I'm misinterpreting this."

"Yeah. Yeah...alright."

"You had dreams during which you were the recipient of some sort of discipline that is typically administered by a parent, and they resulted in some...spontaneous, nocturnal orgasms."

"..."

"From your expression, I'd say my guess was correct."

"..."

"That's nothing to be ashamed of either. It doesn't mean you are sexually attracted to your father, or to any other person who may have acted as an authority figure in your life. It doesn't even necessarily mean that you're a fetishist. It just means...the fact that you were expected to bare yourself seems simple and harmless in theory. And for most people, it is. But given your inherent personality...it sounds you were a very sensitive, private, modest child. Because of the particular parts of your anatomy that were involved in the experience, it also had the potential to create some very confusing, conflicting feelings. The fact that you lacked any real intimacy with your father made it all the more likely that your subconscious would latch onto that and run with it. You were longing for closeness in whatever form you could find it. So your mind took whatever it was that you had and attempted to convince you that it was good."

"I think now I _am _going to be sick."

"Okay. Okay. You know what? I know you asked me not to touch you. But you look a little distressed. So I'm just going to take your pulse."

"..."

"Your…heart is beating kind of fast. My notes said you were getting up to two milligrams of Ativan. Is that daily or as needed?"

"As needed."

"How often do you find you're _needing_ it?"

"I d'know."

"Point five tablets?"

"Yeah."

"Have you had any today?"

"No."

"Yesterday?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Before bed?"

"After dinner."

"I'm…going to go out to the nurse's station and have them bring me some Ativan and maybe some 7-UP. Will you be okay for a few minutes?"

"Wait. It's…m'fine. I'm fine now."

"You're flushed and sweating."

"Really, it's fine. I'm fine."

"Greg, you're _not_ fine."

"I just mean...you don't have to go."

"..."

"..."

"You…don't want me to leave."

"…"

"Are you breathing okay?"

"Yeah…"

"I want to check your airway anyway."

"..."

"I'm…just going to stand here and keep my hand on your wrist. Is that okay?"

"..."

"Greg? I need you to tell me it's okay to touch you."

"Yeah...fine."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Something_ is_ wrong. Just tell me what."

"..."

"Greg, the only way I can know what's wrong is if you tell me."

"Can you...maybe...sit...down."

"You want me to sit?"

"No, it's just..."

"What?"

"You're...making...me..."

"Nervous?"

"Yeah."

"Me standing while you're sitting is making you nervous."

"..."

"Thank you for telling me that."

"…"

"Is this better?"

"…"

"Is this okay, me touching you like this? If you suddenly want me to stop, for any reason, just say so."

"It's…fine."

"I want to monitor your pulse. If it doesn't slow down in the next two minutes, I'm going to call someone to bring the Ativan."

"My chest…is tight."

"Has that happened before?"

"..."

"Does it hurt?"

"No..."

"Any numbness or tingling in your fingers?"

"No."

"Lift up your chin for me."

"…"

"Are you still nauseated?"

"Just...little."

"You want the trash can?"

"No."

"When was your last panic attack?"

"..."

"If you can't tell me, I'll need to check your chart, which means I'm going to either have to leave the room or make a phone call to the nurse's station."

"Two...weeks...back."

"Did something specific set it off?"

"…"

"What happened two weeks ago? Refresh my memory."

"..."

"I know you got into that altercation with another patient and spent the night in the quiet room. I didn't find out about it until the next morning, because I wasn't here. Did you have a panic attack then?"

"…"

"Did they give you Ativan?"

"..."

"Why didn't you tell someone?"

"I…did."

"Who?"

"Nurse…tall, skinny...guy. Looks...Armenian."

"Lernik?"

"Yeah."

"And he refused to help you?"

"He…said…I was…just...being..."

"Being what?"

"Uh...you know..."

"Being difficult on purpose, so he'd sedate you?

"Said...I...wanted...to...get...high..."

"He thought your panic attack was drug seeking behavior?"

"..."

"Did he take your vitals?"

"…"

"Did he write them in your chart?"

"D'know."

"You do something to piss him off?"

"Prob'ly."

"You're not sure?"

"Kinda…lost track…who can't…_stand_ me."

"Was your chest tight like this?"

"..."

"Were you hyperventilating?"

"Wasn't...bad."

"Right...I'm not happy about this. I want you to know that."

"…"

"Patients at risk for respiratory distress are not supposed to be isolated."

"It's…fine."

"It's _not_ fine. A panic attack is traumatic. It can be very frightening. Being placed in isolation is a last resort here, something we use when no other methods of reasoning with a patient have been successful. It's not meant to be used as a punishment. Because it is also to some extent traumatic, we consider it the lesser evil compared to allowing someone to harm themselves or someone else."

"S'okay."

"No, it isn't. And you need to know that it isn't. It was an abuse of authority. And the fact that you yourself have probably abused your own authority on countless occasions _still _doesn't make it okay. Even if you did something to provoke a particular staff member, it's _still _wouldn't be okay. Withholding an anxiolytic from a patient who is having a panic attack, in order to teach them a lesson, is an abuse of authority. And this isn't the first time Lernik has presumptuously accused a patient of drug seeking."

"…"

"Do you understand what I'm saying? I don't want there to be any confusion about where I stand on this."

"Yeah..."

"I'm going to do my best to make sure this doesn't happen again."

"..."

"I'm very proud of you for telling me these things. I know it wasn't easy."

"..."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"Yes."

"And you were wrong too, Greg. You were a very brave child."

"..."

"Did you hear me?"

"..."

"Alright then. We can talk about it later."

"..."

"..."

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Sitting...down."

"You're welcome."


	6. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 4

_House has a minor therapeutic setback that ends up being productive. _

_If the idea of House being attracted to Wilson bothers you, don't read this. Nothing explicit is discussed though._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"Greg."

"…"

"Greg…come on."

"Nng…_wha?"_

"Greg."

"Go'way."

"It's time to get up."

"T's_not_."

"Sorry. It is."

"M'tired."

"You need to get up."

"Nuh…what're you doing here? Get outta m'room. M'trying to sleep."

"You missed your session."

"No…I didn't. It's Sunday."

"It's not Sunday."

"You shouldn't even _be_ here. And you think I'm the crazy one…"

"It's Monday, Greg. You've been in bed since Friday night."

"No, I _hav'n_."

"You want to see this morning's paper?"

"No…"

"Greg."

"Just lemme sleep for a little while longer. I'll get up t'morrow."

"No…come on."

"I'm tired."

"It's six o'clock in the evening."

"..."

"See the clock?"

"What're you still _doing_ here?"

"I'm trying to get you out of bed."

"Go home to your _won_derful, well adjusted family. Come back in the morning…"

"You've been sleeping for over seventy hours. I'm concerned."

"No I _haven't_…stupid nurses wake me up every five minutes...no wonder I'm exhausted…"

"Have you been taking your meds?"

"Only way to make 'em leave…"

"You won't mind if I check your pillowcase then."

"..."

"Come on. Let's see it."

"What is this, a fucking _prison?_ Why don't you check my ass while you're at it.

"I have a legal responsibility to make sure you take the medication you've been prescribed."

"Go away."

"The nurses watched you drink the methadone, I'm sure. But they probably didn't actually _see_ you swallow the pills."

"Seriously…what the hell?"

"Do you know what happens when you stop taking an antipsychotic or an antidepressant, cold turkey?"

"Your shrink becomes incredibly annoying and starts working overtime?"

"I imagine everything would become incredibly annoying, rather quickly. You could also experience mood swings, crying jags, uncontrollable rage, irritability, hypersomnia and possibly even seizures, more severe psychosis, cardiac arrest or stroke."

"I just want to sleep. That's all. I'm not…causing trouble. I'm not hurting anyone. I'm not breaking any rules. I just want to sleep."

"Actually, you _are_ hurting someone. You're hurting yourself."

"…"

"You're going to get out of this bed, so the orderlies can change your sheets. Then you're going to take a shower, wash your hair, brush your teeth, shave, and put on some fresh clothes. Then you're going to eat something and take your meds."

"I'm not shaving. The Charley Manson look is totally in."

"He actually trimmed his beard for his last parole hearing."

"That's a bad argument see...because he still hasn't been released."

"At least wash your hair, or we'll have to cut it again."

"May have to delouse me first."

"I'm sure we'll manage."

"Missed dinner already. Too bad. On Monday's they have rice pudding."

"I will call the kitchen and have someone scrape something up for you."

"Go home, doc."

"I'm worried about you."

"Yeah? Haven't you heard? Bad things happen to people who worry about me."

"What do you think is going to happen to me?"

"Just go home."

"You think if I stay, I'll tell my wife and children about what a pain the ass you are and how I just couldn't come home, because you're making my job so very difficult? That way they'll be angry at you for keeping me here, instead of me for consciously making the choice to work in a field that might demand a lot of my free time and energy."

"…"

"Come on. I can't lift you and I don't think either of us wants me to call someone in here to help."

"I really am tired. Seriously."

"I'm sure you are. Depressed people are often tired."

"…"

"Which is why you need to get out of this bed and take your meds, and resume living whether you feel like it or not."

"…"

"Greg…we're going the wrong direction here."

"Hey, you know where the exit is. At least you can use it."

"I'm not leaving until you get up."

"You gonna sleep here? I'm sure Alvie would love that. And you think _I _don't like being touched…try sharing a room with the _thirty year old virgin_."

"Alvie will be staying in a different room tonight."

"You're _stealing_ my roommate?"

"Borrowing."

"How backward is that? _He's_ the one who's going to suffer. You can't just _make _him sleep somewhere new. He's going to flip out."

"Definitely possible. But we handle that sort of thing here all the time."

"Where the hell's he going to sleep?"

"If you're so concerned about Alvie, you _could_ get out of bed."

"…"

"I brushed up on my negotiating skills."

"You're a dick. You'd traumatize Alvie just to get me out of bed? He's going to wet himself and spend the next week washing his hands until they bleed. I hope he sues your hospital for punitive damages."

"Actually he's still in group, at the moment. If you get up now, he can spend the night in his own room."

"You're blackmailing me."

"Alvie said it was okay."

"..."

"He's worried about you too."

"..."

"Who do you think came to me and told me that you'd been in bed all weekend?"

"You do realize you're talking about someone who thinks that Oliver Stone movies are documentaries, right?"

"I don't think his interest in your well being is the result of a delusion."

"And you don't even want to _know_ what he thinks about Stanley Kubrick."

"Are you getting up?"

"…"

"Greg?"

"I'm not eating."

"Are you nauseated?"

"No."

"Any abdominal cramping or constipation?"

"No…I'm just not hungry. Can't I just _not_ be hungry?"

"As long as it's not a symptom."

"..."

"You haven't eaten since dinner on Friday. So I want you to at least drink some juice and try some crackers."

"Are you going to watch me bathe and get dressed?"

"Do I need to? Can you complete those tasks without supervision?"

"…"

"I will give you twenty minutes, and then I will get you some juice and crackers and then you _will _take your meds. I'll make sure of it."

"Great."

"And then we're going to my office to talk."

"Oh…screw Alvie. I'm going back to sleep."

"You missed your session with me today."

"I'll catch up with you at the next one."

"And you missed three _group_ sessions today, two physical therapy sessions and one big group session yesterday."

"The _Jesus _thing? I already told you, I'm not going to that."

"Spiritual discussion does not necessarily have to include Jesus. The facilitator is a Sheikh."

"Last time we all sat for two hours and listened to some old lady explain to us in broken English, how Mohammed was an alien from another galaxy who was sent here to steal our water."

"You possess both the intelligence and charisma to speak up and steer the conversation elsewhere. I'm sure you have lots of valuable insight about the existence of God, or lack thereof."

"Can't we just talk tomorrow?"

"We _will _talk tomorrow. And we can talk tonight too."

"God…you're the one who's obsessed."

"I prefer the term _committed_."

"Oh…_ha_. I see what you did there."

"…"

"Dick."

* * *

"So…what's going on? We talked Friday afternoon. You seemed okay."

"Nothing."

"So you just spontaneously decided to stop taking your meds and stay in bed for three days. As a diagnostician, I'm sure you know about the relationship between sudden onset and proximate cause."

"…"

"You had…a goals group on Friday evening. Dr. Bendell said you were quiet for the duration."

"..."

"Why were you so quiet?"

"Because I don't have any."

"Any what?"

"Goals."

"I see. What about being discharged?"

"What about it?"

"You seemed rather hopeful about that at our last few sessions. Would that not qualify as a goal?"

"…"

"So am I to understand that you've abandoned that goal?"

"…"

"Hope is dangerous for you, isn't it? So much potential for disappointment. It's so much easier to just not try. That way the outcome is predictable."

"…"

"So what happened?"

"I already told you, _nothing_."

"But there has to be a reason. Unless _nothing_ is the reason. Nothing significant has happened, therefore you're interpreting that as a lack of progress, a reason to stop trying?"

"I was never trying."

"I don't believe that."

"..."

"Where do you see yourself, a year from now?"

"I don't."

"You mean, you can't."

"No, I mean I _don't_."

"You're not planning to be around a year from now?"

"…"

"What would you like to accomplish while you're here?"

"Right now, I want to go back to bed."

"Why?"

"Are we reviewing now? I already told you."

"You're tired."

"Yes."

"So you're just going to sleep the rest of your life away."

"My insurance will run out eventually. Then you can kick me to the curb. I'm sure there's a cardboard box somewhere with my name on it."

"What brought this on?"

"Nothing."

"Greg…you very actively participated in our two o'clock session on Friday. You even suggested that you might be looking forward to going back to work. Something must have changed between then and the group you attended, three hours later."

"I'm just tired. Why can't I just be tired?"

"Any physical symptoms, besides hypersomnia and loss of appetite?"

"…"

"You've been here over three months. I think we should get new bloodwork done."

"It's not my liver or my kidneys. I'm not jaundiced. I've got no abdominal or lower back pain, no dark urine or urinary retention."

"That doesn't mean something else might not be wrong."

"There's nothing wrong."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'm kind of an expert on these things."

"You're also the patient, meaning you're not objective. You don't think wanting to sleep for seventy-two hours and losing your appetite is a cause for concern?"

"It's nothing."

"You just want me to leave you alone, look the other way while you pretend to take your meds and stuff them in your pillowcase and eventually go…die quietly in a corner somewhere. That's sort of the opposite of my job description."

"…"

"What do you need, Greg?"

"I already told you, _sleep_."

"No. What do you _need? _What is it that you need me to be doing, that I am not doing?"

"Wow. I think_ somebody_ meets the diagnostic criteria for a narcissistic personality disorder..."

"I suppose that could be true, if I thought this were all about me. But it's not. It's all about you. And _you_ are why I am here. _You_ are my job. My number one priority is to make sure you leave this place in better shape than you were when you got here, and I can't do that if I don't know what you need."

"I don't _need_ anything."

"What's it going to take to get you to tell me what's going on in that head of yours? I know it's got to be an awfully busy place."

"Nothing, okay? There's nothing you can do. You can't…_fix_ it."

"It?"

"I mean _me_."

"But you said _it_."

"…"

"What's _it? _Your mind, your leg…your _life_?"

"No…"

"So it _is _something."

"No."

"You said I can't fix _it. It _could be a lot of things, a situation, a relationship…"

"Oh brother. Like a dog with a bone. You want a whiteboard and some markers?"

"What?"

"Never mind."

"You think I should be writing this down? You usually get irritated if I take notes while you're talking."

"I don't know. Can I go back to bed now?"

"No."

"Well…it was worth a shot."

"Alvie said you were in a good mood all day Friday…around four o'clock, you made a phone call. You attended group from five to six. You were quiet for the duration. You were supposed to play a game of chess with him afterwards and instead of doing that, you went directly to bed."

"..."

"Want to tell me about that?"

"Is this all because I wouldn't play chess with Alvie? I would have beaten him anyway. I was doing him a favor."

"Who did you call?"

"…"

"You know we keep a record of all the outgoing calls here."

"Don't."

"Or you could just _tell _me who you called."

"I'm seriously saying _don't_."

"I'm finding it hard to believe there isn't some connection between that phone call and your desire to hibernate for three days."

"Just…stop."

"That's what you want, I know. And I know it seems like if I were a _really_ nice guy, I'd let it go. I wouldn't force you to deal with this. Except that's not my job. My job isn't to protect you by helping you avoid your problems. I'm supposed to be empowering you to confront them."

"There's nothing to confront. I told you, you can't fix it."

"What is it that I can't fix?"

"…"

"Does it involve James?"

"…"

"I know you don't call anyone else."

"Are you enjoying this? Does it make you feel clever to remind me that I have no friends, no family, no desk covered with framed snapshots of my fabulous life?"

"Remember what I said about people? That you could learn a lot about them from the lies they tell and what they choose to lie about."

"I'm not_ lying_ about anything. If I were lying, it would be _way_ more interesting. It would involve identical twins in French maid uniforms."

"What did you two talk about?"

"Nothing."

"For twenty minutes?"

"Just…small talk."

"You voluntarily made casual conversation about nothing in particular for twenty minutes?"

"..."

"I don't believe you."

"…"

"He said you hung up on him."

"You _called_ him? What the hell happened to doctor patient confidentiality?"

"He called _me_."

"Right."

"He actually paged me. And I did not disclose any confidential information. He said you hung up on him, right in the middle of a conversation, with no explanation whatsoever. He wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah…whatever."

"You don't think his concern is genuine?"

"Oh, I'm _sure_ it is."

"So what was he saying when you hung up?"

"You didn't ask him?"

"He seemed…reluctant, and I felt it would be unprofessional to inquire about anything too specific."

"Well, I guess you'll never know."

"…"

"So you called him."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"No reason."

"Do you normally call him on Fridays at four?"

"You mean you don't keep track?"

"Alvie says you do. I could find out for sure. Seems like it would be simpler if you just told me though."

"..." (inaudible)

"What?"

"I said _there's nothing simple about it_."

"So it will be complicated. I still want to hear it."

"I...usually call him Wednesdays and Fridays, because he doesn't schedule any surgeries then."

"What time do you call?"

"Earlier, maybe around two or three."

"You call him at work?"

"On his cell, which he tends to have with him at work. He doesn't answer his desk phone that often, unless it's a call coming from inside the hospital."

"Why did you choose to call him at that particular time?"

"You bumped my appointment from noon. I called him then, but he was at lunch."

"Ah...yes. I told you already, I had an emergency."

"I wasn't blaming you. I was just making a statement."

"So was I."

"Right."

"So what happened when you called him the second time?"

"His cell went straight to voicemail. I knew he probably wasn't at work anymore, because sometimes he cuts out early on Fridays. So...I called him at home."

"And…what?"

"A woman answered."

"Did she identify herself?"

"No. But she sounded...awfully damn comfortable answering the phone."

"Did James identify her?"

"No."

"Did you ask him to?"

"…"

"Is it possible that she's just a friend?"

"Any woman who makes friends with Wilson eventually ends up in his bed. The only exception would be his boss and two coworkers who are already spoken for…and I wouldn't rule out the possibility that he's boinked at least one of them at some point."

"Is it possible that the woman was…a hooker?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Wilson…doesn't need to pay people to have sex with him."

"Hmm...By the way you phrased that I can only assume you're implying that you _do_ need to pay people to have sex with you."

"…"

"Why would you think that?"

"The crippled thing…is not as sexy as it looks."

"I see. Your physical handicap makes you less desirable."

"No…the _massive scar _on my thigh makes me less desirable. My personality makes me less tolerable. The Vicodin use made me less functional. Do the math."

"I've seen your leg, Greg. It's not _that_ massive."

"Oh well, excuse me. If you had to look at it every day, you might have a different point of view."

"I'm not saying that you don't the right to be upset about it. I'm saying that I don't accept that as a legitimate excuse for your lack of romantic endeavors."

"…"

"And you're no longer taking the Vicodin."

"Yeah...antidepressants have pretty much the same effect."

"But not as strong."

"..."

"And I don't think either your appearance or personality are so repellant that they would completely obliterate your chances of having a sex life."

"Are you hitting on me? Because you're not my type."

"You had the surgery in...1997? How many sexual partners have you had since then?"

"I don't know. I'd have to check my bedpost for notches."

"More than five?"

"…"

"Less than five?"

"..."

"Less than three?"

"I didn't count them."

"Any of them professionals?"

"…"

"Any of them men?"

"Why the hell would you ask me that?"

"Given the course this conversation is taking, I think it's relevant."

"I already told you _no_."

"I see."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"I...it's clear that this...whatever this is, is about James. I don't know if you're just not ready to accept how you feel about him, if you think it would be a waste of your time to pursue him or if you just enjoy denying yourself whatever might actually make you happy. But the cause and effect here is fairly obvious."

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"..."

"Please tell me how you feel."

"..."

"Say anything at all...Just talk."　

"I can't do this again."

"Do what?"

"I can't go through this again."

"You're afraid James is in another serious relationship, and you're concerned about how that will affect you in the long term."

"…"

"You said he didn't identify her. How do you know there wasn't some other logical explanation for her being there?"

"Give me a break. You think she was the Avon lady?"

"Okay…even if she were there for romantic purposes, how do you know it will become serious? Maybe it was a one time thing."

"It doesn't matter."

"I think it does."

"No…I mean, it doesn't matter. Another will be along shortly to take her place."

"You regard the possibility of James getting into another serious relationship as inevitable."

"Yep."

"Why?"

"He has no idea how to be single. He defines himself by his ability to provide for someone else."

"That doesn't sound like a terrible quality to have. The desire to nurture is inherent to most human beings."

"Right."

"Unless…you'd prefer that he define himself by his ability to provide for you."

"..."

"Greg?"

"Is that so wrong to want that? I mean, really? Is that so ridiculous?"

"So you're admitting that you do..._want_ that."

"Doesn't matter."

"It matters alot and no...it's not wrong at all. But it's also useless if he doesn't know it."

"He doesn't need to know."

"I kind of think he does."

"I just mean, nothing good will come of it. He...deserves to be happy. I've already ruined his life enough."

"Does he think you ruined his life?"

"..."

"What are you basing that on?"

"Too many things to count."

"I know you feel responsible for Amber's death. You've stated that you regret allowing him to prescribe for you. What else have you done that you think might have _ruined_ his life?"

"I don't want to talk about this. I'm...tired."

"Too tired to maintain that facade?"

"..."

"It's a lot of work, isn't it?"

"..."

"So this phone call…upset you, because it was a reminder that even though James might not be dating anyone seriously at the moment, he will probably eventually be in another relationship and that will be stressful for you."

"…"

"Have you considered just telling him how you feel?"

"He doesn't care how I feel. He thinks he does. He probably_ really_ believes he does. But he doesn't. I don't think he can even tell the difference."

"So you do…_feel."_

"…"

"James may not know how you feel. But I doubt he wouldn't _care_."

"That depends on how you define _care_."

"How do _you _define it?"

"Caring is more than just making a sympathetic face and saying _poor you_."

"You believe he's ingenuine."

"I'm sure he thinks he's _very_ genuine."

"You believe the words are empty, if they aren't supported by actions."

"..."

"Seems like a lot of people have let you down, by making promises they either couldn't or wouldn't keep."

"…"

"So…this is related in some way to your sudden loss of interest in being discharged."

"…"

"Why do you think that is?"

"…"

"Are you having trouble staying awake?"

"…"

"Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow."

"Or never."

"Whatever this is, it's significant enough to make you want to abandon any hope of recovering or being discharged."

"…"

"Are you okay?"

"Shit…"

"..."

"..."

"At last…some tears."

"…"

"I know it feels…foreign. But I promise you'll be okay. It's not going to kill you."

"Shit. Shit. _Shit_."

"It's really frustrating, I'm sure. You'll feel a whole lot better if you just stop trying so hard not to cry."

"..."

"Your body knows what it needs to do…what it's probably been _needing_ to do for a long time."

"Stop looking at me."

"You think you're the first grown man to cry in this office?"

"..."

"This is a good sign, Greg."

"No, it's _awful_."

"Okay, I know it doesn't feel good. It hurts. But really, it's good."

"..."

"Stop fighting it and just let it go."

"…"

"I'm just going to sit down next to you here."

"..."

"Is that okay?"

"..."

"I'm going to put my arm around you."

"..."

"I know you don't want it. But you need it. People need to be touched. _You_ need to be touched."

"..."

"You're shaking."

"Sorry."

"No...I just meant, you should try to relax."

"I _can't."_

"Greg...I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

"I know."

"No...it seems like maybe you don't."

"..."

"It's safe to say that this is at least partially the result of you going cold turkey on the antidepressants. But I'm going to take advantage. I want you to try and tell me what you're feeling right now."

"…"

"Greg?"

"I don't know."

"What _do_ you know?"

"I just want to go back to bed."

"Soon. First let's talk."

"Now."

"You're just reacting to the discomfort of me being so close."

"No."

"You'll get used to it in a minute. Take some deep breaths."

"..."

"You enjoy sleeping that much?"

"No."

"But you want to go back to bed."

"..."

"You don't like being awake?"

""It's not that."

"Then..."

"I don't like…waking…up."

"Why?"

"Because…I don't know."

"Then why say it?"

"…"

"You said it for a reason."

"..."

"What happens when you wake up?"

"Things are gone."

"What things?"

"Things that are supposed to be there."

"Like what?"

"Like...people."

"Which people?"

"Things have changed. Thing are…misunderstood."

"What things?"

"Everything."

"But which things specifically?"

"..."

"You mentioned trying to tell your mother about your father's treatment of you and being misunderstood. Is that what you're referring to?"

"..."

"You mentioned...trying to tell James that you loved him and him making the assumption that you were kidding."

"You're an idiot."

"What?"

"That's what he said. _You're an idiot_."

"You told him you loved him and he said you were an idiot?"

"No."

"Clarify."

"When I woke up, he told me I was an idiot."

"Woke up from what?"

"Sticking a knife into a wall socket."

"That was the cardiac event listed for...October of 2007? You had to be resuscitated, burned your left hand and needed oxygen."

"..."

"Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"I was trying to _almost_ kill myself."

"Why?"

"Curious."

"You're curious about a lot of things."

"Yeah."

"So when you woke up, James told you that you were an idiot...for risking your life over something that most people would consider to be trivial."

"..."

"It obviously wasn't trivial to you. But do you think maybe for James at least, that wasn't really much of an overreaction?"

"It was his idea."

"To try and kill yourself?"

"He said...I couldn't say for sure that there was no afterlife, because I had no way of knowing for sure."

"And you needed to prove him wrong."

"..."

"You're very sensitive to that, I've noticed."

"..."

"You don't like to be wrong."

"..."

"So...was your experiment fruitful? _Was_ there an afterlife?"

"I don't remember."

"You didn't see anything?"

"I was dreaming. Then I was awake. It was like...only a few minutes had passed."

"Inconclusive then."

"Yeah."

"So under what context did you tell James that you loved him?"

"I don't know...he was _there_ and I was...I just _said_ it."

"And how did he indicate that he thought you were kidding."

"He rolled his eyes and walked away."

"Perhaps he was still upset."

"..."

"How long were you out?"

"Six hours."

"So...that's six hours of sitting around thinking about the fact that you could have died and wondering why you might have felt the need to stick a knife in a wall socket to win a bet that _so_ far no scientist or religious scholar has succeeded in settling."

"..."

"And when you woke up, James was angry that you'd been so reckless. You had a moment of clarity, during which you felt...free enough to tell him how you felt, and you didn't get the reaction you might have been hoping for."

"..."

"Safer to stay asleep then."

"Yeah."

"But you can't sleep all the time."

"I wish I could."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because?"

"Because...nothing hurts there."

"That's a good reason to not want to wake up, Greg. There's nothing wrong with that. Except you can't really stay there."

"Did you ever dream that you were dead?"

"Sure."

"I mean _really_ dead. Like…you didn't know it was a dream."

"No. I guess I haven't."

"It's like…I've been dead all this time. Everybody knows it but me."

"..."

"I'm just...haunting them."

"I'm sure you're not unfamiliar with the term _survivor syndrome_."

"I'm not really here."

"You _are_ here, Greg."

"But what does that even mean?"

"I think we should talk about the crash."

"No."

"Maybe tomorrow then? You've avoided talking about it so far. But I think it's clear that it's affected you."

"..."

"Greg?"

"..."

"_Greg?"_

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you seeing anyone else in this room besides the two of us?"

"..."

"Are you hearing any voices besides mine?"

"No…why?"

"Where were you just now?"

"Right here."

"..."

"What?"

"You have no idea what I said a moment ago, do you?"

"…"

"Do you remember coming in here?"

"…"

"What day is it?"

"Friday."

"Are you sure?"

"…"

"Take a second and think about it."

"It's Monday."

"Are you guessing?"

"No."

"..."

"You're wearing the green tie."

"Where were you just now?"

"I was here."

"Do you hear any sounds, ringing? Do you smell anything sour or metallic?"

"No."

"How many dosages of Loxapine did you miss?"

"Six...seven?"

"You took twenty milligrams just now."

"Yes."

"But you're sure you're okay."

"It's fine. I'm fine. She's not here."

"Who?"

"..."

"You said before it was a man you were seeing."

"..."

"So you lied then."

"That surprises you?"

"No."

"Of course it wouldn't."

"Everyone lies, Greg…even good people. It's what they lie about that's significant."

"…"

"You don't think you're a good person?"

"…"

"Why did you feel compelled to lie?"

"…"

"Why tell us that you're hallucinating a deceased person, but lie about the person?"

"Persons."

"So there was more than one of them. They were people who had once existed and died. But they weren't former patients of yours, and at least one of them was female."

"..."

"So…who in your life is no longer living. Your father maybe?"

"…"

"Can I interpret that eye roll as a _yes?"_

"No. It wasn't…I mean…there were other people."

"Which means maybe you did see him, but not to the degree of someone else. Who else in your life has died recently, Dr. Kutner?"

"…"

"He spoke to you."

"A few times."

"But you told us upon admittance that you'd been hallucinating for almost a week. So I take it the majority of those manifested themselves as some other figure."

"…"

"Someone else in your life who had died recently…a young woman perhaps?"

"…"

"What would she say to you?"

"…"

"Did you tell James who you were seeing?"

"…"

"Why do you think your brain would choose that particular person as a manifestation for your psychosis?"

"Because I'm crazy."

"Do you feel crazy?"

"Sometimes."

"I think sometimes we all feel crazy, Greg. That's not necessarily diagnostic. I think the fact that your brain made that choice implies rationality, not insanity. It also suggests something psychological and not physiological. But you're medicated, at least you were until Friday night. But you're weren't hallucinating during the period of time that you were actually taking your prescribed dosages."

"…"

"Were you?"

"No."

"I understand that you experienced psychosis. But I don't think you are in fact, psychotic."

"That's what _psychotic_ means."

"In the case of severely depressed persons, the existence of psychosis is usually the result of something unresolved. Because we subconsciously desire to resolve everything, even that which is beyond resolution. When we consciously work to ignore that basic desire, especially when we ignore it for a long time, the results can be extreme. You also said it had been days since you'd slept. Combine the stress of sleep deprivation with that of your accumulated, unresolved issues, and you've got a recipe for depression based psychosis."

"Then why haven't you discharged me?"

"You think you're ready to go home?"

"If you don't think I'm crazy and I'm no longer hallucinating, why keep me here?"

"Because you've yet to deal with the bulk of those unresolved issues…and you're still experiencing sleep disturbances."

"I'm sleeping."

"You think insomnia is the only manner in which your sleep can be disturbed?"

"..."

"Alvie was concerned."

"..."

"What are your nightmares about?"

"I'm not talking about this."

"You don't think nightmares are a cause for concern."

"I'm sure they could be, if I were having them."

"You think Alvie misinterpreted what he heard?"

"I think..."

"What?"

"never mind."

"Just tell me."

"I think that Alvie has probably never...masturbated."

"..."

"That's not against the rules, is it?"

"No. As long as you're...discreet."

"I was trying to be."

"..."

"..."

"Something puzzling though."

"..."

"You've stated during several sessions that you have a decreased sex drive, which between your age and the cocktail of meds you happen to be taking, would be completely understandable. Yet you were aroused to the point that you felt the need to take matters into your own hands, with another person sleeping four feet away?"

"Three and a half."

"You measured?"

"I was curious."

"Meaning you planned it in advance. Why?"

"..."

"Perhaps tension building up? Nurse Allen says you frequently flirt with her."

"I do?"

"According to her."

"..."

"She said your remarks bear a great deal of sexual innuendo."

"I talk like that to everyone."

"Everyone?"

"Yeah...men and women, ages seventeen to eighty...actually eighty-three would be the oldest."

"You flirted with an eighty-three year old woman."

"She started it."

"And you had to finish it."

"Mostly I was trying to annoy her son. I flirted with him too."

"And you're willingly supplying me with unprompted information about an unrelated issue, meaning you're deflecting."

"And now I have to flirt with _your_ mother. See what you've done?"

"My mother passed away three years ago."

"Like _that_ would stop me."

"So you're not attracted to Nurse Allen."

"She's hot. But no. She's got three kids."

"She's divorced."

"And she's got three kids."

"But you are attracted to someone."

"Maybe I'm just unbelievably horny."

"I think we already ruled that out."

"_You_ ruled it out."

"You know what is stronger than the effect antidepressants can have on your sex drive?"

"Ajax? No wait...that's _stronger than dirt_."

"_Love_."

"But you can't scrub your shower with love."

"I know we've established that you love him. But are you_ in love_ with him?"

"..."

"We do keep coming back to this, don't we?"

"Yes. The world revolves around James Wilson. Don't think he's unaware."

"You've got to tell him."

"That he's a narcissist? He already knows."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah...I already know exactly how that would go."

"How would it go?"

"He'd chalk it up to my...nervous breakdown, or midlife crisis...or whatever the hell this is...tell me I'm just confused, or that it's just a phase. Or he'd try to prove what a good friend he is by graciously devoting himself to convincing me that I'm really attracted to women, so as to rid me of any of those pesky, homosexual thoughts...all the while continuously asserting how very straight he is. Or he'd just slowly back away, buy a gun, get a restraining order and apply for a new job in a different state."

"Those things are all possible. But none of them are definite."

"You have no idea."

"I have _some_ idea."

"..."

"He does call me, you know. We talk."

"You..._bastard_."

"I said we talked. I didn't say I broke confidentiality laws. Are you really that accustomed to having your trust violated?"

"..."

"You _are_, aren't you?"

"..."

"That explains a lot."

"..."

"He's terrified."

"He should be. He'd be even more terrified if he knew what I did in my room the other night."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"..."

"He's afraid this is all his fault."

"I seriously doubt he thinks _any_ of this is his fault. He doesn't even know what _this_ is. Hell, _I_ don't even know what this is."

"He's not quite there yet. He knows he contributed. He's just not quite sure quite how."

"Great. Well I'll just keep playing chess with Alvie until he figures it out."

"Your recovery is not dependent on his participation."

"Right."

"You will eventually go home and you will have to deal with this...with these feelings."

"Or I could stay here."

"You're a short timer, Greg. This is just a stopover. This is not where you're meant to live out your days."

"Maybe I don't want to go home."

"You like it here?"

"Not really."

"Then why would you want to stay?"

"It's...easy"

"How?"

"Well...easi_er_."

"It's safer too, isn't it?"

"..."

"People understand you here, understand why you do what you do. They don't dismiss your feelings and they're fairly forgiving of your mistakes. And all the other patients have problems too. No one's judging you."

"..."

"The people in your life want to do that too, Greg. But sometimes they need a little kick in the pants."

"Why should I have to kick anything? Why should I even have to _do_ that?"

"Because it's your life, Greg. Because...sometimes people don't know any better, until someone tells them."

"Telling is often useless."

"Yeah, it is. And sometimes telling makes wonderful things happen."

"It's been my experience that wonderful things don't happen to me."

"They can."

"Can, but don't."

"He misses you."

"Right."

"And he wants to see you."

"..."

"I'm going to tell you something that...I shouldn't tell you."

"..."

"He doesn't know it yet, or how or why. But he wants to be with you."

"..."

"You don't believe me."

"Should I?"

"I've known James for twenty-two years. He's been married and divorced three times. His brother's been committed twice. He's lost several close relatives to cancer and miscellaneous natural disasters. He's only felt the need to call me on about fifteen separate occasions and it's only ever been about one person."

"..."

"Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

"Are you screwing with me? Why the hell would you do that?"

"I'm not and I promise that I wouldn't."

"Because that would be like...the evil opposite of funny."

"I would never intentionally give you false hope."

"I...don't believe you."

"I see."

"..."

"I could lose my license for telling you this."

"No you couldn't."

"Not _that_...what I'm _about_ to tell you."

"What?"

"Can I trust you with this information?"

"Can I trust _you?"_

"Yes."

"..."

"Why do you think James got divorced, the first time? I know you met him shortly after."

"He cheated on his wife, with some nurse he met during his ER rotation in Boston."

"Did he ever tell you the nurse's name?"

"Um…it was something gender neutral like Pat or Chris."

"Sam."

"Yeah. Sammy Perales."

"So he told you about the affair."

"Sure."

"And you probably assumed that Sam stood for _Samantha_."

"..."

"..."

"Er...what?"

"He called me…upset. He was confused."

"I'll _bet_."

"Being…gay didn't really fit in with the image his parents had projected onto him."

"No kidding."

"I told him he would never be happy unless he did what was right for him."

"And he…didn't take your advice?"

"He chose to do what was right for other people instead...and he paid the price."

"That explains a lot."

"I hoped it would."

"Did he ever bring it up again?"

"No. And I didn't either."

"So he's…called you about me."

"Yes."

"Regarding what?"

"I've already abused his confidence enough for one day."

"Right."

"But he does want to see you."

"I don't know."

"..."

"Is he...coming here?"

"If you approve him, yes. He'll come."

"..."

"I can call him if you want, and arrange a visit."

"..."

"_Do_ you...want?"

"Yeah, sure. I mean...this is going to be weird now."

"It doesn't have to be."

"There's no way in which this _won't_ be weird."

"Weird can be good."

"And it can be very bad."

"I'll call him tomorrow morning then. See if he can come up Wednesday afternoon."

"..."

"That's okay?"

"Yeah...yeah, I guess. Crap, this is going to be weird."

"Good."

"Are we done here?"

"Uh...yes. I think so."

"Can I go back to my room?"

"Still tired?"

"Tired? No. I need to shave. The Charles Manson look is totally out."


	7. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 5

_Conversations are as follows: House/Wilson, House/Nolan, House/Wilson (via telephone), House/Nolan_

_You're probably going to end up wanting to strangle House here, Wilson too. Just a warning._

**

* * *

**

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"House...how are you?"

"Fine."

"I feel like this is the longest I've ever gone without seeing you."

"It's _not_ actually."

"It's been nearly fourteen weeks."

"It was eight plus...eleven, so nineteen between Amber dying and my dad's funeral. But hey, who was counting?"

"You look good."

"Yeah…I think when I come back to work, I'm going to dress like this every day. Nothing says I_ just got out of a mental hospital_ like drawstring pajama pants and a faded t-shirt with a picture of _Mr. Bubbles_ on it.

"Well...you shaved."

"Board of health demanded it. Other patients were trying to hide things in my beard."

"..."

"Sighing and rolling your eyes already? Wow, you've only been here two minutes. I must be even more annoying than I thought."

"I can't even give you a compliment without you finding some way to misconstrue it. Yeah, that's annoying alright."

"That's because you weren't giving me a compliment. Acknowledging that someone who ordinarily pays little attention to their personal hygiene, finally got off their ass and tended to their facial hair, is not a compliment. It's actually a backward insult."

"I was trying to be polite."

"Which with me is completely pointless and unnecessary. I already know I don't look good._ You_ know I don't look good. So why say it?"

"Well excuse me, House. I have no idea what I'm supposed to say to you. This situation is…hard for me too. I don't think you realize that."

"Right."

"You don't think this is hard for me?"

"Have you ever had to use the toilet with three nurses watching?"

"No."

"Ever have anyone stick an antiemetic up your ass?"

"Thankfully, no."

"Have you ever had someone check the inside of your mouth after you've taken your medication, to make sure you actually swallowed it?"

"No. But I've never given anyone reason to think that I wouldn't swallow my medication either."

"Have you ever been strapped to a bed for three days while you were detoxed from alcohol and opiates?"

"No, House. I haven't. Because I'm not an addict."

"Well, lucky you."

"Yes, _luck_ is why I don't have a drug addiction."

"..."

"Dr. Nolan...said you were being uncooperative. He wouldn't tell me exactly how. But based on what you just shared, I can only imagine."

"There other ways to maintain control over people that don't involve sedatives or full body restraints."

"I knew you'd be like this. Always thinking everyone is out to get you..._anyone_ in a position of authority. For some reason you never seem to get that people are just trying to...to _help_ you, to save you from destroying yourself....which by the way, you've been rather intent on doing since pretty much the day we met."

"Yeah...except for when the ones who _think_ they're helping me are actually the ones who are trying to destroy me."

"He's not trying to destroy you House. Darryl Nolan is one of the finest clinical psychiatrists I've ever met. He wants to help you get better...if that's even possible. How can you not see that?"

"I never said I meant _him_."

"Well, then..."

"I'm down with Dr. Nolan. He uses sports metaphors and he's had sex in public places. What else could you ask for in a shrink?"

"You mean _me?"_

_"..."_

_"_How could you even think that, House?"

"…"

"I mean...I _brought_ you here, for God's sake. There were no openings _anywhere_ and I called and arranged to get you in _that day_."

"You want a medal? James Wilson, _do-gooder extraordinaire,_ friend and brother to the mentally ill and lover to...pretty much anything with an arterial pulse."

"You know what? I'm not doing this. I actually thought you were serious, that you came here to get help. But you've been here for fourteen weeks and it's like nothing's changed."

"Leaving so soon? Oh, too bad. You haven't even been here long enough to hook up with one of the nurses."

"House...I drove all the way out here, under the false impression that you actually gave a damn. But I guess that was a waste…_again_."

"Surprised you came at all. The way you dropped me off like a dog at the pound, I would have though you'd taken this golden opportunity to finally have a life free of me...pack up your stuff and sneak off to some other state under a not-so-clever pseudonym like James _Bilson_."

"Why are you doing this? I came because I care. Why the hell is that so hard for you to believe?"

"..."

"You don't think I care?"

"..."

"House, that's not even..."

"I'm not saying you don't. I'm saying...I'm not sure I'd be able to recognize it if you did."

"Well _that's_ fair enough. I don't think you would either."

"Yeah...glad we could chat about what's wrong with me again. I sure have missed these conversations. But I have a whole team of people devoted to telling me what's wrong with me now. So you're off the hook."

"Wait. That's _it?_ I drove for two hours to get here."

"And now you can drive two hours to get back....three, depending on the traffic."

"..."

"Just add it to the list of grievances you're holding against me. God knows it won't be lonely."

"You can't just _walk away_."

"Actually, I can. It turns out even mental patients have rights. I can't choose what I'm going to eat for breakfast, lunch or dinner and I don't have enough privacy to masturbate properly. But I don't have to see you if I don't want to."

"Why are you doing this? Did you drag me out here, just so you could blow me off? What purpose could that possibly serve?"

"I'm just giving you what you want, what you came for."

"Why would I _want_ you to act like an ass? I thought that was one of the things you were here to fix."

"Excuse me. Allow me to rephrase. I'm giving you what you _expected_."

"Which is based on years of observing you, acting like an ass."

"Have a nice drive home."

"House, wait. This isn't what I...let's just start over. Let's talk, okay?

"No thanks. I can predict exactly how it will go anyway, and so can you apparently. I've already cost you two hours. Just trying to save you from wasting any more of your precious time."

"If you really wanted to save me some time, you could have told me this on the phone and I wouldn't have driven all the way out here."

"Yeah...pretty much like that."

"..."

"Say _hi_ to your new girlfriend for me, by the way."

"House...I already told you that was Catherine. She and my brother were staying with me for a few days, while their new home was being fumigated. God, you've met her at least ten times. You know her voice. Why the hell would I lie about that?"

"She sounded awfully_ at home_ in your home."

"She was waiting for a call from the escrow officer."

"I'll bet. Is she banging him too? You guys can have a foursome."

"Why does it matter what I say, if you're not going to believe it anyway?"

"Welcome to my world."

"Is that what this is about? House...I assume you're lying because you _lie_. Everybody lies. That's _your_ world view."

"And you've always been so very honest."

"I get it. I've lied too. Therefore everything that comes out of my life is complete and utter bullshit."

"Once again, welcome to my world."

"So that is what this is about. You want me to trust you. I can do that, House. It's just...you're going to have to earn it."

"You don't think I've already earned it?"

"No."

"Just what does someone have to do to gain integrity with you?"

"..."

"I'm serious. Just what is it I have to give you or do for you to be worthy of your time and energy?"

"I don't even understand what you mean."

"Forget it."

"No...House. Let's just try to make this work. Tell me about your therapists. Dr. Nolan says the patients here attend a lot of groups."

"Yep."

"And what are those like?"

"Groups are gatherings of three or more people. They usually sit in in a circle. If there's more people, it becomes an oval."

"Very funny."

"And those people sit around and whine about things they can't do anything about and other people tell them it's not their fault, even though it is."

"Is that helping you?"

"Does it _sound_ helpful?"

"What about your sessions with Dr. Nolan?"

"What about them?"

"Are they...productive? What do you two talk about?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Why?"

"Because it's none of your damn business."

"Right."

"Are we done now?"

"No. I...have another question for you."

"Oh boy. I can't wait."

"Are you still...you know?_"_

"Still what...seeing your dead girlfriend? No. I already told you. The meds took care of that the first week I was here. But I'm sure you'll think I'm lying about that too."

"..."

"I find it interesting though, that you care more about _what_ I was hallucinating than you did about the fact that I was hallucinating at all. Don't worry. She had all her clothes on. I wouldn't want my psychosis to infringe on your neurosis."

"Right...and speaking of neuroses, why do you care so much about whether or not I'm dating someone?"

"I don't."

"Kind of seems like you do."

"..."

"_What?"_

"What did he tell you?"

"Who?"

"Don't give me the hapless idiot routine."

"House, I'm not...you mean Dr. Nolan? Is there something he _could_ have told me that's relevant to that question?"

"Nope."

"So you think he disclosed something to me, which would be related to the fact that my dating someone bothers you."

"..."

"He didn't tell me anything House...other than the thing about you being uncooperative, and that you broke some guy's nose over a game of chess."

"He was losing and he ate my rook. I wasn't going to wait for it to make it's way through his GI tract, in order to claim my victory."

"You've got problems."

"That's kind of why I'm here."

"Well at least you can admit that."

"Yeah because it wasn't painfully obvious before."

"So why _does_ the idea of me dating someone bother you? You acted the same way when I started dating Amber."

"I'm not talking about this."

"Yes, you are."

"I gotta go."

"No you don't."

"Lunch will be soon, and I promised some guy with Asperger's that I'd teach him how to make eye contact, in exchange for his dessert."

"Yeah, that's hilarious."

"Who said I was kidding? It's chocolate pudding. I never joke about pudding."

"Well that's clearly more important than this conversation."

"That was going to be my argument as well."

"..."

"Later, Wilson."

"Wait...when do you think you'll be ready to be discharged. Dr. Nolan wouldn't tell me."

"If he didn't tell you, then maybe that's a sign that it's none of your business."

"He actually said that I should ask you."

"To which I would reply that it's _none of your business_."

"If you want me to keep picking up your mail and forging your signature to pay your utilities, then yeah...it's kind of my business."

"..."

"Next week, next month, next _year?"_

"Not in the immediate future."

"Why not?"

"Isn't it obvious? Because I'm not _fixed_ yet. I'm not fit to be released back into society with all you fine, well adjusted folk."

"..."

"See ya."

"House..."

"I gotta go."

"No, wait..."

"Goodbye, Wilson."

* * *

"What happened, Greg?"

"What the hell do you think happened? Same thing I told you was going to happen."

"…"

"You said to _be myself_. I was myself."

"Which version, the real one of the one everyone else expects?"

"I told you this wouldn't work."

"Mmm hmm. You did."

"..."

"Do you think he's sorry he came?"

"I'm sure he won't be back."

"Well that's convenient for you. Now you can say you were right all along and nothing has to change."

"I tried."

"Did you?"

"…"

"I don't mean to seem...cruel. But it sounds like you went into it, planning to fail. You got the exact outcome that you wanted."

"Right. I _want_ Wilson to hate me. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm just _that_ intolerable? Even if I wanted to change that, I couldn't."

"Well…let's see. I've spent at least an hour a day with you, five days a week, for the last three and a half months. I've had some truly obnoxious patients in my career, some of which I absolutely dreaded having to speak to, let alone treat. You're an eccentric, obsessive, cynical realist. But you're also intelligent, thoughtful, observant, talented and entertaining. You're far from intolerable."

"…"

"It bothers you to be praised."

"Because it's bullshit."

"While many people in my field prefer to utilize _unconditional positive regard_, I am not in the habit of lying to my patients in order to make them feel better."

"..."

"He's coming back, you know."

"No, he's not."

"He said he was."

"I don't want him to come back. It's up to me who I see, right?"

"Yes and no. It's up to you whether or not you see him...and you_ do_ want him to come back."

"…"

"But you can't admit that or even accept that you want or need him, because your attempts to drive him away were fruitless, meaning if he comes back now it's like he's defying you somehow…or maybe he just feels sorry for you."

"…"

"Or worse than that, maybe he cares for you and considers your companionship a worthwhile tradeoff for having to endure your antagonistic behavior."

"..."

"Did he tell you who the woman was?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And you already know. So I don't see why you need to drag it out of me, unless you just want to gloat."

"I'm happy, not because I was right, but because you were wrong."

"Not necessarily. I wouldn't put it past Wilson to pork an in-law."

"I see. Even facts are irrelevant now, if they conflict with your agenda."

"Can we talk about something else?"

"No."

"…"

"What did you say to him?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It obviously _does_ matter."

"It started out okay. But he made some off-handed remark about how I don't really want to get better and I don't really want help and _blah blah blah_."

"And you know that isn't true. Did you attempt to correct him?"

"What's the point?"

"Changing his mind would have been a lot of work. Much easier to just confirm his assumptions instead, even if they're wrong."

"There's no changing his mind about anything. He's always going to look at me and see…whatever the hell it is he sees."

"Which is what?"

"I don't know. But it's...not me."

"And you wasted another opportunity to change that."

"It's not _going_ to change."

"What does he see, Greg?"

"A murdering, lying, thieving, misanthropic drug addict who would do anything for a fix. He probably thinks I'd kill my own mother for a bottle of pills."

"Would you?"

"No."

"Then why does it matter? If you're certain that his point of view is inaccurate, why the lack of confidence?"

"Don't mistake apathy for a lack of confidence."

"So it's a lack of interest. It's just not worth it to you to make him see you for who you really are."

"..."

"I don't buy that either. And I doubt he considers you to be a murderer."

"Oh, I bet he does."

"Alright...well let's assume he does hold you personally responsible for Amber's death. I doubt he believes that it was malicious or premeditated."

"..."

"And he has no first hand experience with addiction."

"So?"

"So…it's just a novelty to him. No amount of medical training can take the place of actual experience. To him_...addiction_ is like a public service announcement or a word on the cover of a pamphlet. He can't possibly appreciate what it would be like to be you. He couldn't even if he wanted to."

"…"

"You tend to expect the absolute worst possible outcome. You assume things won't work before giving them a fair shake. Do you think you might be projecting some of your insecurities onto James, that perhaps you're looking for some way to shift the blame? That way, whatever results from your inability to commit to recovery will be his fault instead of yours."

"I don't know."

"So you're admitting to having insecurities?"

"Who the hell doesn't?"

"According to my notes from our first few sessions, you claimed to have none. You made the statement _I'm not insecure about anything_."

"I said that?"

"Actually I think it was _I'm not fucking insecure about anything_...but I believe you were still experiencing the side effects of opiate detox."

"..."

"You're now willing to admit that you have insecurities, you have feelings, and you're affected by the things that happen to you. That's admirable progress."

"Yes, embracing your inner loser _really_ qualifies as progress."

"You are _not _a loser. Those who are genuinely losers never reach the point of seeking help, or wanting it or even thinking they need it. The idea of improving themselves as a human being never crosses their mind, because they are that lacking in self awareness. The winners are the people who are self aware enough to realize that they need help, that there are aspects of their behavior that are unhealthy and need changing."

"Well that's not my definition."

"What is your definition?"

"I think I just told you."

"So…a person who is either directly or indirectly responsible for other people's deaths, who tells lies, who exhibits antisocial behavior, who steals or abuses alcohol or narcotics is a loser."

"…"

"What's the last lie you told?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"The insecurity thing, probably."

"And you lied on your admission form, about your alcohol use."

"…"

"The motive for those lies was shame. Given the circumstances, that was a completely reasonable feeling."

"Yeah…right."

"You lied to me about the nature of your hallucinations. The motive for that lie was fear. You didn't want me to know who you were seeing, because you weren't ready to confront that issue and you knew I'd expect you to talk about it. That was another reasonable feeling."

"…"

"You said you stole drugs from the hospital pharmacy when you were being forced to detox against your will. The motive there was not wanting to be in pain. Not wanting to be in pain is one of the most basest drives an organism can have. You also stole your friend's prescription pad in order to get drugs, the motive again being a desire to avoid physical pain. See where I'm going with this?"

"You're making excuses for my behavior."

"I'm_ explaining_ your behavior."

"..."

"Have you ever lied about something for no reason at all, just pure maliciousness?"

"I don't know. But a lie is a lie. What the hell difference does it make what my motives were?"

"Have you ever stolen anything for no reason, other than to be malicious?"

"I made Wilson sit on my doorstep for three hours once."

"Why?"

"He was staying with me after his last divorce. I told him I'd hang a stethoscope on the door if I had company of the female persuasion."

"And you did?"

"No. I didn't. I just hung it there...to see how long he'd wait."

"So…like a practical joke?"

"Yeah, except for the _practical_ part."

"Inconsiderate…but I don't think that was necessarily malicious. Did he exact any sort of revenge?"

"He filed halfway through my cane and it broke while I was walking."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I was...kind of impressed."

"But not angry. Why?"

"I don't know. I didn't really get hurt. I mean, I stumbled. But it was no big deal."

"Maybe because he went to that much trouble to get you back."

"..."

"Remember what I said about currency?

"Canadian coins in the American vending machine?"

"Yes. You can load it full of money. But if they're not the right coins, you're not going to get anything out of it. People are like that too. You have to figure out what currency to use. James went to the trouble to get revenge, because was expressing his fondness for you in a currency that you could accept."

"That's...twisted."

"Greg, either we're all twisted or none of us are."

"I screwed this up."

"How so?"

"I was just...He was actually trying and I was just..._mean_. I don't even know why."

"So you screwed it up on purpose."

"I guess."

"Good."

"That's good?"

"That you know it and can acknowledge it is good."

"Now what?"

"Now, you try again."

"What if I screw it up again?"

"Then you try again, and again. Or you figure out how to move on. But you don't give up."

"…"

"What?"

"Can you fix me?"

"You don't need to be fixed, Greg."

"But...I'm serious. Can you actually help me? Can you help me stop this? I mean is this all just fancy words and psychobabble, or can you _actually_ help me? Because I can't..."

"What?"

"I've gotta stop doing this...I got to stop pushing him away or one of these days, he won't come back. And I don't know how to do that. I just keep fucking it up."

"Why _do_ you do it?"

"I don't know."

"I think somewhere deep inside, you do know."

'Did you ever love someone so much that it scared you what you'd do for them?"

"Yes, I have."

"Yeah, well. It kind of sucks. It's like...getting hit by the same car over and over again. And you're injured every time, but you _never die_."

"Here."

"What?"

"Call him, right now."

"On _your _cell phone, from_ inside_ the hospital? Won't that like...rupture the space time continuum?"

"I have lots of rollover minutes."

"I don't know what to say."

"Say how you feel."

"I don't think I know how to do that."

"And I know for a fact that you do."

"..."

"I'm dialing."

"Wait. Don't...just...wait. Give me a minute."

"It's ringing."

* * *

"Wilson? Yeah...it's me."

"House? Did you steal Dr. Nolan's phone."

"He loaned it to me."

"Right."

"Are you home yet?"

"It's only been an hour. I'm still in Pennsylvania."

"Ah."

"So what are you calling about?"

"I'm calling to say...that I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For...for being a total dick."

"It's fine."

"Why is it fine?"

"Because that's who you are, House. I'm used to it."

"..."

"Hello?"

"..."

_"Hello?"_

"But...that's not who I am, Wilson."

"You've got some secret superhero life or alter ego that you haven't told me about?"

"No..."

"What?"

"Forget it."

"..."

"I was right."

"About what?"

"I told Dr. Nolan that even if I tried to change, it wouldn't matter. No one would accept it. No one would care...not even you, and I was right."

"House, you can't just start acting like..."

"Go to hell."

* * *

"Well that obviously didn't go well."

"Yeah, thanks. It was a great idea. You can take your rollover minutes and shove them up your..."

"_Greg_."

"It's good. It's good. You know what? I'm glad."

"Why?"

"I'd rather know the truth now than hang onto a lie and find out later."

"I don't think it's a lie."

"Yeah well, you didn't hear his side of the conversation."

"I'm going to call him back..."

"No, you're not."

"...and ask him to turn the car around..."

"Might want to offer to reimburse him for his precious gasoline."

"...and the three of us are going to talk."

"The two of you can talk. I'll be in my room."

"Hiding under the covers?"

"..."

"You've got to stop running away from everything that scares you."

"You have no idea what scares me."

"You honestly believe that?"

"_He's_ the one who's running away."

"Yes, he is. And so are you. Nothing good is ever going to happen to you if you walk away from every open door."

"There is no door."

"You're a fool if you believe that."

"I'm not talking to him."

"I really think you should."

"Well I'm not, and you can't make me."

"I'm going to to ask him to come back."

"Don't care."

"And the three of us will sit down and talk."

"That's nice. Good luck with that."

"I'll call you when he gets here."

"I'll be in my room."


	8. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 6

_Had to do this in scripted format, since there are three of them. It bounces back and forth between angsty and comical._

* * *

**NOLAN:** "Okay, gentlemen. We're going to play a little game I like to call _three words_. You can say whatever you need to say. But you can only use three words at a time."

**HOUSE:** "This...is...stupid."

**NOLAN:** "Thanks for the demo, Greg. But I'm going to let the visiting team go first.

**HOUSE:** Your attempts to butter me up with sports metaphors shall be fruitless."

**NOLAN:** "James, I want you to say...first thing that comes to mind, three words."

**WILSON:** "I don't understand what I'm supposed to be saying."

**NOLAN:** "When you came here, you probably had some things you wanted to say to Greg. For whatever reason, you didn't get a chance to say them."

**WILSON:** "Because he was acting like an ass."

**HOUSE:** "That's seven words. You lose."

**NOLAN:** "There are no losers in this game, Greg.

**HOUSE:** "But if there were, it would be him."

**NOLAN:** "Three words, James. Go."

**WILSON:** "I...missed...you?"

**NOLAN:** "Is that a question?"

**WILSON:** "No."

**NOLAN:** "Then why are you phrasing it like one?"

**WILSON:** "I missed you."

**NOLAN:** "Good. Better. Greg?"

**HOUSE:** "What?"

**NOLAN:** "What is your response to that?"

**HOUSE:** "Obviously...you...didn't."

**WILSON:** "Can he do that?"

**NOLAN:** "Disagree with you? Yes. As long as he does it in three words. If you want him to believe you, then you have to be believable."

**WILSON:** "You don't believe me?"

**NOLAN:** "It doesn't matter if_ I_ believe you. It matters if_ he_ believes you. It's your turn. So make him believe you."

**WILSON:** "Yes...I...did."

**HOUSE:** "What...ev..._er_."

**NOLAN:** "That's one word, Greg."

**HOUSE:** "I subdivided it into three."

**NOLAN: **"And you just wasted a turn...James?"

**WILSON:** "What?"

**NOLAN:** "Your turn."

**WILSON:** "I have to say something else?"

**NOLAN:** "You don't _have_ to. You _get_ to. Think of it as a privilege."

**WILSON:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Three words...go."

**WILSON:** "I don't know what to say."

**NOLAN:** "What do you want Greg to know?"

**WILSON:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Greg, what do you want _James_ to know?"

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Wow. You two are really something. So much you need to say and neither of you can seem to do it."

**WILSON:** "I just don't see the point in trying, if all he's going to do is accuse me of lying."

**NOLAN:** "I don't think he accused you of lying though."

**WILSON:** "If I say I _missed_ him and he says I didn't...what would you call that?"

**NOLAN:** "I would say that he doesn't agree that it seems like you missed him. That doesn't mean he thinks you don't _believe_ what you're saying."

**WILSON:** "Same thing"

**NOLAN:** "Okay, I can see this isn't going to work. So I'm going to change the rules a bit. You can use three words at a time. But they have to be adjectives."

**WILSON:** "Wait...how are we supposed to communicate without nouns or verbs?"

**NOLAN:** "I guess it will be a challenge."

**WILSON:** "We're having trouble, so you're going to make things _more _difficult?"

**NOLAN:** "You two thrive on a challenge."

**WILSON:** "_He_ does, not me."

**NOLAN:** "He thrives on a challenge and you thrive on obsessing over him thriving on a challenge."

**HOUSE:** "Oh, ha ha. Snap."

**WILSON:** "..."

**HOUSE:** "Loser goes first, Loser."

**WILSON:** "So you want us to just list three adjectives...describing how we feel?"

**NOLAN:** "Or describing the other party, or describing the situation...or anything, as long as it's three adjectives."

**WILSON:** "Okay...tired, annoyed, exasperated."

**HOUSE**: "Yeah that_ totally_ unexpected. James Wilson is annoyed about something? Say it ain't so. Put your hands on your hips and strike a pose for us."

**NOLAN:** "Greg...adjectives only."

**HOUSE:** "Pedantic, predictable and...phony."

**WILSON:** "Are you saying I'm _phony_? How the hell did you get _phony_ out of tired, annoyed and..."

**NOLAN:** "Adjectives only, James."

**WILSON:** "Fine. Irritated, confused...perplexed."

**HOUSE:** "_Irritated_ is just another way of saying annoyed and perplexed and confused are the same thing. You fail."

**NOLAN:** "_Greg_."

**HOUSE:** "Fine...bored, unimpressed and...despondent."

**WILSON:** "Despondent? What are you_ despondent_ about?"

**NOLAN:** "James."

**WILSON:** "Right, right...adjectives. Uh...Concerned, uncertain...imploring?"

**HOUSE:** "Imploring is a verb."

**NOLAN:** "I'll allow it. You could describe someone as_ imploring_."

**HOUSE:** "And just what are you_ imploring,_ oh tired and annoy-ed one?"

**NOLAN:** "Adjectives."

**HOUSE:** "Curious, intrigued...tentative."

**WILSON:** "Tentative? Of _what?"_

**NOLAN:** "This is like playing Monopoly with my kids. _Rules_, gentlemen."

**WILSON:** "Right, _adjectives_. Anxious, fearful...I don't know, desperate?"

**HOUSE:** "Desperate?"

**WILSON:** "Yes."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**WILSON:** "What?"

**HOUSE:** "You don't know what _desperate_ is."

**NOLAN:** "Greg."

**HOUSE:** "Forget it. I'm not playing this stupid game."

**NOLAN:** "It bothers you that he'd describe himself as desperate. Why?"

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Okay, I could probably figure it out. But he obviously couldn't, at least not without some help."

**HOUSE:** "I'm going to my room."

**NOLAN:** "No, you're not."

**HOUSE:** "You gonna make me stay here now? You might want to call in some back up."

**NOLAN:** "Greg. You want to do this. You need to do this. You're _going_ to do this. Take a deep breath and think it through."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Okay. I can see that you're not quite ready to address this. James?"

**WILSON:** "What?"

**NOLAN:** "I want you to speculate on why you think Greg might take offense to you implying that you're _desperate_."

**WILSON:** "I...can't think of anything."

**NOLAN:** "Well, then you'll need to try harder."

**WILSON:** "Right. Maybe he...thinks I don't understand what it's like to be a patient in a mental hospital."

**NOLAN:** "Okay...that's an excellent guess. Scale of one to ten, Greg...how close is that to the truth?"

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Greg?"

**HOUSE:** "One point one two seven...six four three..."

**NOLAN:** "So there's some truth to that. But there's apparently a lot more."

**WILSON:** "If you guys know the answer, then why the hell can't you just tell me?"

**NOLAN:** "Think journey, not destination."

**WILSON:** "So you get to watch me squirm while I try to figure it out. How nice for you both."

**NOLAN:** "I promise that this process is intended to benefit all parties equally."

**WILSON:** "Right."

**NOLAN:** "So won't you please humor me?"

**WILSON:** "It has to do with you being a patient here...maybe indirectly. So maybe whatever contributed to you being a patient here...Vicodin use?"

**HOUSE:** "..."

**WILSON:** "You're angry at me for interfering in your methadone trial...maybe for stealing your phone and finding out about that shrink you were seeing in New York? I don't know."

**HOUSE:** "Three and one fifth."

**WILSON:** "Well that's...something, right?"

**NOLAN:** "Remember that you're going for a ten."

**WILSON:** "I can't...okay, let me think. You're mad at me for ignoring you when Kutner died."

**HOUSE:** "_What?"_

**WILSON:** "Is that a _no?"_

**HOUSE:** "You didn't _ignore_ me. I mean, you did. But I just assumed you had a good reason, or _a_ reason anyway."

**WILSON:** "I did have a reason. Amber's death was still...fresh. I wasn't...I didn't think I could handle it."

**HOUSE:** "But obviously you thought _I_ could. Thanks for the vote of confidence."

**WILSON:** "You couldn't?"

**HOUSE:** "I called up his old room mates from college and drummed up some wild conspiracy theory about him being murdered. Yeah, I was doing great."

**WILSON:** "Why didn't you say something?"

**HOUSE:** "Cuddy talked to you."

**WILSON:** "So?"

**HOUSE:** "So...she told me what you said."

**WILSON:** "..."

**HOUSE:** "So...I didn't really think you'd be coming around at all. I didn't expect you to."

**WILSON:** "That...wasn't meant for your ears, House."

**HOUSE:** "Yeah well, maybe you shouldn't have said it then. What I said to Kutner's parents wasn't meant for your ears either. But it got back to you anyway. Why do you expect other people to be any better at keeping a secret than you are?"

**WILSON:** "..."

**HOUSE:** "And showing up to suggest I go get plowed and wake up in a puddle of my own sick was a nice touch."

**WILSON:** "I thought that's what you'd want to hear, House."

**HOUSE:** "You can't make up your mind if you want to berate me for my vices or enable them. One day you're talking down from a ledge, the next you're shoving me off of it."

**WILSON:** "..."

**HOUSE:** "Four and a half, by the way."

**WILSON:** "Wait...that wasn't it?"

**HOUSE:** "You think _that's_ why I'd take issue with you claiming to be desperate? It was reasonable. I mean, you were a total dick. But it was still within the realm of reasonable."

**WILSON:** "Thanks...I think."

**NOLAN:** "Maybe it would help James to know in what way he's headed in the right direction. Perhaps you should tell him which things are relevant, so he will know where to go from there."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "One word, Greg. Anything you want to offer at all."

**HOUSE:** "I don't know..._loss_?"

**NOLAN:** "Loss...like financial loss or personal loss?"

**HOUSE:** "Very good. Those are two examples of loss."

**NOLAN:** "So it's possibly one of those or possibly something else entirely."

**WILSON:** "Loss...like your job maybe? Are you worried about losing your job?"

**HOUSE:** "I need Jim Rome's manual buzzer."

**WILSON:** "Okay, so that's not it. Death is loss. Maybe...your father's death? You're...angry I made you go to his funeral."

**HOUSE:** "If by _made_ you mean drugged and kidnapped."

**WILSON:** "Is that _it?"_

**HOUSE:** "No."

**WILSON:** "..."

**HOUSE:** "Even with clues, you're clueless. It's just sad."

**WILSON:** "Maybe you should give me better clues."

**HOUSE:** "The fact that you even _need_ clues is sad."

**NOLAN:** "Assuming we're referring to loss in the form of death, who else has died that you both know?"

**WILSON:** "Your father, Kutner..._Amber?"_

**HOUSE:** "Eight and a half."

**WILSON:** "Is _that_ what this is about? I knew you were hallucinating her. But you insisted it was...meaningless. I mean you lied and told me it was Kutner."

**HOUSE:** "And you selectively chose_ that_ particular moment to start taking me at face value."

**WILSON:** "The only reason I can think of for why you might be seeing her is...because you feel guilty about her death. But you didn't even seem to care that she'd died. So unless your grief has been brilliantly repressed..."

**NOLAN:** "James. Can I ask how you came to the conclusion that Greg_ didn't care_ that Amber had died?"

**WILSON:** "He flat out said so. I mean, I told him I was grieving and his advice was to buy a plant. He all but told me to _suck it up_. You would have thought I'd just finished flushing a goldfish."

**HOUSE:** "You might as well have been."

**WILSON:** "See?"

**HOUSE:** "I just meant...He was grieving longer than he even knew the woman. I had a pet rat longer than they dated and I didn't even get choked up when it died"

**WILSON:** "Yes...well. You are the very model of the emotionally healthy, adult male."

**NOLAN:** "Okay, so those were his words. What were his actions? What did_ they_ communicate?"

**WILSON:** "What do you mean?"

**NOLAN:** "When you realized that your girlfriend was indeed rather ill and would probably not survive without top notch medical treatment, what did Greg do?"

**WILSON:** "He took over as her attending and transferred her from Princeton General to the hospital where we worked."

**NOLAN:** "I see. Upon your suggestion?"

**WILSON:** "No, it was his idea."

**NOLAN:** "And you went along with it. Why?"

**WILSON:** "I don't know. I figured...if anyone could save her, it would be him."

**NOLAN:** "Did you give any thought to what might happen if he _couldn't_ save her?"

**WILSON:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Greg said she had a cardiac incident in transit. What happened then?"

**WILSON:** "I suggested we cool her down in order to prevent brain damage or further trauma to the heart."

**NOLAN:** "And what was his response?"

**WILSON:** "He told me it was a bad idea."

**NOLAN:** "Those were his exact words?"

**WILSON:** "No...he said it wasn't a long term solution, that it would only buy us time to figure out what was wrong with her. It wouldn't_ fix_ anything."

**NOLAN:** "So, you didn't do it?"

**WILSON:** "No...he did it anyway."

**NOLAN:** "Because he didn't care whether or not she lived or died?"

**WILSON:** "I assumed he'd panicked. He'd realized that she _could_ die and it might be his fault and he wanted to exercise as much control over the situation as possible."

**NOLAN:** "Why would you assume that?"

**WILSON:** "I...don't know. House doesn't like to leave anything up to chance."

**NOLAN:** "Hmm."

**WILSON:** "What?"

**NOLAN:** "I'd like you to repeat that statement."

**WILSON:** "What statement?"

**NOLAN:** "_He'd realized that she could die and it might be his fault and he wanted to exercise as much control over the situation as possible._ But instead of House, say_ I_. Instead of _his_ say _my_."

**WILSON:** "_I_...realized that she could die and it might be _my_ fault and I wanted to exercise as much control over the situation as possible."

**NOLAN:** "And the other one. _House doesn't like to leave anything up to chance._ Replace House with_ I_."

**WILSON:** "_I don't like to leave anything up to chance_."

**NOLAN:** "How true does that feel?"

**WILSON:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "So when you realized that you still had no idea what was wrong with her and there was a very good chance that she was going to die anyway, what did you do?"

**WILSON:** "I thought maybe House could figure it out...if he just had more information. He'd obviously seen something that would lead him to think that her life was in danger. But his memories were clouded by his own head injury. Earlier, one of his fellows had suggested he try an alternative procedure to retrieve them."

**NOLAN:** "What kind of procedure?"

**WILSON:** "I'm assuming you already know."

**NOLAN:** "I do. I'd like to hear it from you."

**WILSON:** "Deep brain stimulation...electrical impulses sent directly to the hypothalamus."

**NOLAN:** "And how did Greg respond when you reminded him of this particular option?"

**WILSON:** "He acted like...I don't know, like he shouldn't have to do it. And he shouldn't have. I'm not saying he should. I just...wish he hadn't acted like...I don't know. It was his fault she was on the bus to begin with. That wasn't exactly the moment to start acting entitled."

**NOLAN:** "Forget about what he might have said. What did he actually _do?"_

**WILSON:** "He...did it anyway."

**NOLAN:** "Did it take some convincing?"

**WILSON:** "...no."

**NOLAN:** "And that didn't turn out so well for him, _or_ her. Did it?"

**WILSON:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "It sounds like you've avoided thinking about this."

**WILSON:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Forget about his words. Forget about his body language. How do you feel, knowing that he'd risk his life like that for you...just because you asked, that he didn't even need convincing?"

**WILSON:** "It was like I was dreaming. You know...like I wasn't inside my own body. I was just...watching. And Chase was drilling holes in his skull...and I was thinking _I'm killing him. He's gonna die and so is she and I'm never going to forgive myself_."

**NOLAN:** "That's good."

**WILSON:** "Am I at ten yet?"

**HOUSE:** "Nine and three quarters."

**WILSON:** "Then, I don't know what the hell you could possibly need to hear."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "What did Greg say to you when you first saw him today?"

**WILSON:** "What?"

**NOLAN:** "Or _you_, actually. What were the first words out of your mouth?"

**WILSON:** "I don't remember. I think I said that I missed him...that he looked good."

**NOLAN:** "_Do_ you think he looks good?"

**WILSON:** "I...noticed that he'd shaved."

**NOLAN:** "That's not an answer."

**WILSON:** "Yes."

**NOLAN:** "So what _did_ you say to him?"

**WILSON:** "I don't remember _exactly."_

**HOUSE:** _"I feel like this is the longest I've gone without seeing you."_

**WILSON:** "Right. I said it was the longest I've gone without seeing him and of course he had to correct me."

**NOLAN:** "Correct you how?"

**WILSON:** "I think I said that it had been fourteen weeks since I'd seen him last and he said that we went nineteen weeks without seeing each other after Amber died."

**NOLAN:** "Uh huh. And?"

**WILSON:** "Oh."

**NOLAN:** "I think we may have found ten."

**WILSON:** "House...I thought you understood that I wasn't ready to see you. And then you threw it in my face, risking your patient's life for our friendship. It was like the exact opposite of what I needed at that moment. But I never meant to hurt you. I assumed you knew that already. I assumed you'd moved on, that you'd bounce back, that you'd just keep on going like you always have..."

**HOUSE:** "Did it occur to you that what you said and did was the very opposite of what _I _needed at that moment?"

**WILSON:** "Yes. Yes, House...After I've had some time to think about it, I realize that overreacted. I was...grieving. I couldn't be around you. It wasn't your fault. It was. But it wasn't like you'd done it on purpose. Being around you was too much a reminder of what had happened. That wasn't fair to you, I know...I really had no idea that you were..."

**HOUSE:** "You…_bastard_."

**WILSON:** "What?"

**HOUSE:** "You…fucking bastard."

**WILSON:** "House, I don't know what you want me to say. I was upset. I wasn't ready to face you. Surely you've got to understand…"

**HOUSE:** "Fuck you. Just…fuck you."

**WILSON:** "Oh my _God_. Please don't cry…"

**NOLAN:** "James...I'd prefer that you not discourage Greg from expressing himself emotionally, even if it bothers you to see it."

**WILSON:** "Right. Right...sorry. Go ahead and cry if it makes you feel better."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Greg?"

**HOUSE:** "..."

**WILSON:** "House, are you okay?"

**HOUSE:** "There's no point. It's over."

**WILSON:** "What's over?"

**HOUSE:** "Everything. All of it. It's over."

**WILSON:** "What are you talking about?"

**HOUSE:** "You don't get it. It's like...I _died_ in that chair."

**WILSON:** "House..."

**HOUSE:** "You idiot. How could you think I didn't care? I _wanted_ to die. I wanted to die so you could have her back. I wanted you to be happy."

**WILSON:** "Oh…my God. House. Why didn't you say something?"

**HOUSE:** "What should I have said, Wilson? _Please talk to me…just for few minutes. Please tell me you're glad I'm still alive. Please tell me that I still matter to you, even if it's not a lot. I'm so sorry. Just…please don't leave me alone._ Why the hell should I have had to say _anything?_ How can you not know?"

**WILSON:** "..."

**HOUSE:** Words are useless, a waste. Everything I do is a fucking waste. Everything I say is a waste. It's all a waste."

**WILSON:** "House…I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

**HOUSE:** "No...no. No way. You don't get to do this now. You don't get to be sorry now. You could have said it then, but you didn't…You just walked away and washed your hands of me. I've wasted three and a half months of my life in this fucking hospital because I can't get over it!"

**WILSON:** "House...you should have said something."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Okay...Greg has the right to be angry, James. Yes, he _should_ have said something. But for whatever reason, he either lacked the ability or the desire to do so. He's avoided even thinking about this or allowing himself to feel any of these feelings, for very long time. While he has the right to be angry, he also needs to acknowledge that you've taken responsibility for your actions. So maybe in order to facilitate that, you could use this moment to reassure Greg of how much he means to you."

**WILSON:** "Right.

**HOUSE:** "Not a chance."

**WILSON:** "House."

**HOUSE:** "I don't want to hear it."

**NOLAN:** "Greg, you _do_ want to hear it. You need to hear it. You're angry and you've had a chance to express that now. James should have the same freedom to express his feelings as well."

**HOUSE:** "What freedom? He doesn't need freedom. He expresses his feelings constantly. How Wilson_ feels_ is never a mystery to anyone."

**NOLAN:** "Pretty sure that's not true. If either of you knew how to communicate their feelings in a remotely healthy manner, we wouldn't be sitting here now."

**WILSON:** "So...what do you want me to say?"

**NOLAN:** "I want you to tell Greg how important he is to you."

**WILSON:** "You're important, House. I...missed you. The hospital, my..._nothing_ has been the same without you."

**NOLAN:** "Okay. Those are words, and they're _very_ good words. But they're still just words. It will be hard for us to _see_ any action there. But maybe you could_ tell_ me about action."

**WILSON:** "I don't understand."

**NOLAN:** "What are you doing, what have you _been_ doing, that would illustrate just how much you miss Greg, how important he is?"

**WILSON:** "I don't know."

**NOLAN:** "Think about it. Think really hard. Your daily routine has probably changed some. You're taking care of his bills, right? I imagine you must visit his apartment periodically."

**WILSON:** "Yeah."

**NOLAN:** "Yeah, and?"

**WILSON:** "And...I've kind of been sleeping there."

**HOUSE:** _"_Wait..._what?"_

**WILSON:** "You heard me. That's why Catherine answered the phone at my place. She forwarded the call to my cell, because I'd asked her to. I was at your apartment and I...didn't want you to know."

**HOUSE:** "Why would I care about that? I told you to check up on the place. I figured you'd hang out there, watch TV."

**WILSON:** "I...this is weird."

**HOUSE:** "It's not weird. If you were watching porn and getting jizz all over my couch, I suppose that could be a little weird...unless you filmed it and put it on YouTube, in which case I might be willing to forgive you."

**WILSON:** "I slept in your bed."

**HOUSE:** "Okay...that's maybe, slightly weird. Alone?"

**WILSON:** "Of course, alone."

**NOLAN:** "Why did you do that, James?"

**WILSON:** "I told you, my brother called and asked if he and his wife could stay with us. Their kids were staying with her sister. But...she annoys me. I didn't feel like dealing with her. And I didn't feel like cooking for them, which I knew was exactly what they were going to expect. So I stayed at work late and then slept at House's place. Normally I'd sleep on the couch. But my back was hurting and I realized it was stupid to do that when there was a perfectly good bed in the other room."

**NOLAN:** "So...how is that weird?"

**WILSON:** "It's not. I just...I don't know."

**NOLAN:** "You seemed to think something that was perfectly logical might appear strange to someone else, meaning there's more to your reasoning than what you've told us."

**WILSON:** "..."

**NOLAN**: "James?"

**WILSON:** "Darryl...don't."

**NOLAN:** "I'm just doing my job."

**WILSON:** "I'm not your patient."

**NOLAN:** "But _he_ is."

**WILSON:** "He's going to laugh."

**NOLAN:** "Somehow I doubt it."

**WILSON:** "I'm setting myself up to get mocked here."

**NOLAN:** "Perhaps that's a risk worth taking."

**WILSON:** "I missed you, House. You were...always around and then you weren't and...I'm not good with major life changes. You know that."

**NOLAN:** "And how is that weird?"

**WILSON:** "I've always been sensitive to smells. When I was five, we moved from one house to another. It wasn't far. It was less than a mile, in fact. But it was a bigger house and I was going to have my own room, and I had a hard time adjusting. So my mother sprayed a little of her perfume in my room to make it feel more like...home."

**NOLAN:** "So...how does that relate to this particular situation?"

**WILSON:** "House's bed...smells like him."

**HOUSE:** _"What?"_

**WILSON:** "See?"

**NOLAN:** "I don't think that was necessarily mocking."

**HOUSE:** "What? I didn't know I _had_ a smell."

**WILSON:** "It's like...deodorant and hospital soap and aftershave...coffee and...something else."

**HOUSE:** "So you just...rolled around on my bed like a cat in heat, hoping to pick up _essence of House?"_

**WILSON:** "God..."

**HOUSE:** "I knew I should have sprung for surveillance cameras."

**WILSON:** "..."

**HOUSE:** "I'm just...sorry. I'll stop laughing now."

**WILSON:** "..."

**HOUSE:** "Just give me another second..."

**WILSON:** "Thanks Darryl. Thanks a lot."

**NOLAN:** "This is good, James."

**WILSON:** "Yeah, it's wonderful."

**NOLAN:** "Now maybe Greg would like to return the gesture by illustrating how much you mean to him?"

**HOUSE:** "I'm not sure I can top that mental image...."

**WILSON:** "..."

**HOUSE:** "...nope."

**NOLAN:** "How important is James to you?"

**HOUSE:** "I don't know. Is there some kind of scale I should be using?"

**NOLAN:** "You spoke very clearly to me about how you felt, just a few hours ago."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "I'm not going to violate confidentiality. I'm just saying I know for a fact that you're capable of articulating your feelings."

**HOUSE:** "He's my best friend."

**NOLAN:** "And how long has he been your best friend?"

**HOUSE:** "A long time."

**NOLAN:** "And how long is a long time."

**HOUSE:** "Since...October of 1992."

**NOLAN:** "And?"

**HOUSE:** "And...I'd give him a kidney, if he needed one and my organs were viable for transplant. Actually I don't think anything in my body is viable. So I couldn't give it to him anyway, even though we are a match. But it's the thought that counts, right?"

**WILSON:** "Wait...how do you know if we're a match?"

**HOUSE:** "I don't. I was just saying, if we were."

**WILSON:** "No...no...I_ know_ you. You wouldn't say that unless you were sure."

**NOLAN:** "It's a reasonable question, Greg."

**HOUSE:** "A few years back I...tested your blood for HLA proteins...and your bone marrow. I knew you were a donor and there was some already in the lab."

**WILSON:** "Why the hell would you do that?"

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Greg?"

**HOUSE**: "He...your brother and your mom both have type one diabetes and one of your uncles died of leukemia."

**WILSON:** "Wait...You wanted to make sure you could give me your kidney or your marrow, if it came to that?"

**HOUSE**: "Or...whatever."

**WILSON:** "Wow. So if you needed half my liver, I could give it to you?"

**HOUSE:** "Presumably...and if I would even let you do that."

**WILSON:** "Why the hell _wouldn't_ you let me do that?"

**HOUSE**: "I'm already unhealthy. If my liver fails, it will be from drug and alcohol abuse. Meaning...it would be my fault I was sick to begin with. It would be a bad investment for a healthy person to give me their organs. I'm also ten years older than you. Makes more sense to save the person who's going to live longer."

**WILSON:** "You think my life is more important than yours?"

**HOUSE:** "I'm not sure why that would surprise you."

**WILSON:** "Why wouldn't you think that would surprise me?"

**HOUSE:** "You obviously though it wasn't as valuable as Amber's."

**WILSON:** "House, I _never_ thought that. You thought that I did?"

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Um...okay. Before either of you schedule an OR or start swapping any of your internal organs...James, can you at least appreciate why Greg might think that? Because it doesn't really matter what he _should _have thought. What matters is how he actually felt."

**WILSON:** "I didn't even have a clue you'd interpret...I mean I was scared. I was desperate and I just assumed you realized that."

**HOUSE: **"Well, as long as you assumed I'd be fine with it."

**NOLAN:** "James...maybe this would be a good time to apologize for making such a dire request."

**WILSON:** "I never intended to send that message."

**NOLAN:** "But surely you can understand how Greg might come away with that impression. Your actions had consequences, whether you intended them to or not. If he's going to recover from those consequences, you need to accept your responsibility for them. You need to at least acknowledge that they exist. Because as long as you're clinging to the fact that you never intended to hurt him, he can't get closure."

**WILSON:** "I never thought of it that way."

**NOLAN:** "So?"

**WILSON:** "I'm...sorry."

**NOLAN:** "For what?"

**WILSON:** "I'm sorry I gave you the impression that your life wasn't important. That was never my intention. Your life is important to me. You have no idea what I went through when you were shot, when you overdosed on physostigmine, when you stuck a knife into a wall socket and when you put yourself into insulin shock. I was terrified that you were going to die, even when I asked you to do the DBS. I just think maybe...I was so used to you treating yourself with such recklessness, it seemed okay."

**NOLAN:** "Greg? What do you have to say about that?"

**HOUSE:** "About what?"

**NOLAN:** "He's pointed out your recklessness and the fact that consequences of your actions have affected him also. Perhaps this would be a good time for you to apologize as well."

**HOUSE:** "Sorry?"

**NOLAN:** "That's it?"

**HOUSE:** "I'm sorry I_ terrified_ you..."

**WILSON:** "What?"

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Finish that thought, Greg."

**HOUSE:** "I just tend to assume that people won't care if anything bad happens to me. I know that's...I know you care. I just...can't explain it."

**NOLAN:** "Given what I know about you personally, that's a very reasonable conclusion for you to draw, even if it's inaccurate. But you need to reach a point where you can tell the difference between reality and when you're just projecting that neurosis onto others."

**WILSON:** "House, I had no idea you felt that way."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Seems like maybe Greg believes he had reason to think you _did_ know."

**WILSON:** "But I didn't."

**NOLAN:** "But given the fact that he thought you did, does his behavior now make a little more sense?"

**WILSON:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Perhaps this would be an ideal time to communicate to Greg that what happens to him matters to you."

**WILSON:** "He already said...he knows that I care."

**NOLAN:** "That doesn't mean he doesn't need to be reminded. You mentioned several occasions on which Greg was reckless with his life. Maybe if you could pick one and explain specifically how you felt at the time, it would give him a more specific idea of how much he means to you.

**WILSON:** "I don't...I wouldn't know which to pick. I mean, they were all..."

**NOLAN:** "How about the knife in the wall socket incident? It's my understanding that you were involved somehow. There was a debate between you about the existence of an afterlife and Greg felt the need to prove you wrong by actually attempting to die and be resuscitated."

**WILSON:** "Yes. Not one of his finer moments."

**NOLAN:** "How did you find out?"

**WILSON:** "I'd already gone home for the evening. Cuddy...our boss, she called me to tell me."

**NOLAN:** "So you came back to the hospital?"

**WILSON:** "Yeah, and he'd already been revived. He was unconscious, getting oxygen. He'd burned his hand."

**NOLAN:** "How long was he unconscious?"

**WILSON:** "Uh...maybe eight hours? It happened around nine in the evening and he didn't wake up until early the next morning."

**NOLAN:** "And what did you say to him when he woke up?"

**WILSON:** "I don't remember. I think he asked about his patient."

**HOUSE:** _"You're an idiot."_

**WILSON:** "..."

**HOUSE:** "That's what you said."

**WILSON:** "Well, you were."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**WILSON:** "House...you, _a grown man_, stuck a God damned_ knife_ in a wall socket and electrocuted yourself. Your heart stopped and had to be restarted. What the hell do you _want_ me to say?"

**NOLAN:** "You sound angry."

**WILSON:** "I'm not. I just...don't understand why he feels the need to do these things."

**NOLAN:** "Did he offer an explanation?"

**WILSON:** "This patient in the clinic had a near death experience, had insisted that he'd seen the afterlife. He claimed it was this wonderful, happy place. So of course House needed to prove that no such place existed.

**NOLAN:** "Do you think Greg would actually prefer that no such place existed? Or do you think he'd just rather know for sure, so he wouldn't be hoping for something that didn't exist?"

**WILSON:** "Both? I don't know."

**NOLAN:** "Did he say anything to you, when he woke up?"

**WILSON:** "He was obsessing about the clinic patient, who had electrocuted himself similarly...as opposed to his own patient, a guy with late stage SMA who ended up dying of stongeloides."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "He didn't say _anything_ else to you?"

**WILSON:** "I don't remember."

**NOLAN:** "Think about it for a minute."

**WILSON:** "I want to say...he asked for more morphine."

**HOUSE:** "..."

**WILSON:** "What?"

**NOLAN:** "Are you okay, Greg?"

**HOUSE:** "I want to go back to my room."

**WILSON:** "Wait..._why?_

**HOUSE:** "Can I?"

**NOLAN:** "Yes. Go ahead."

**WILSON:** "You're just letting him leave?"

**NOLAN:** "He's had a very long day."

**WILSON:** "Who hasn't?"

**NOLAN:** "I'm curious about the morphine. How did Greg go about making that request?"

**WILSON:** "I don't remember. I think I mentioned that his hand looked painful and he shot me a look and I said I'd up his morphine."

**NOLAN:** "And that's all you said to each other."

**WILSON:** "I honestly don't remember."

**NOLAN:** "Can I ask you something?"

**WILSON:** "Of course."

**NOLAN:** "For most people, a near death experience would be an emotional event, one that might prompt them to take stock of their lives or perhaps do some moral inventory. Did Greg, at any point after waking up, express any sort of endearment, even if it was meant in jest?"

**WILSON:** "Yes...that's right. I told him I'd up his pain meds and he said _I love you_."

**NOLAN:** "..."

**WILSON:** "Wait...he _told_ you that? Why would he tell you that?"

**NOLAN:** "Why do _you_ think he would tell me that?"

**WILSON:** "I don't know."

**NOLAN:** "How did you respond to that statement?"

**WILSON:** "I don't remember."

**NOLAN:** "What were you thinking when he said it?"

**WILSON:** "I don't...I guess I just thought he was responding to the increase in pain meds. I mean, he obviously wasn't serious."

**NOLAN:** "..."

**WILSON:** "He was serious?"

**NOLAN:** "I'm going to answer that by_ not_ answering that."

**WILSON:** "..."

**NOLAN:** "Think about it. He'd just died and regained consciousness. You have no idea what he really saw. He may never tell anyone. But whatever experience he had, it affected him."

**WILSON:** "I need to talk to him."

**NOLAN:** "I think...yes. You do need to talk to him. But he's had a very long couple of days. Anything you say to him now...let him rest and maybe you could come back in a week, give me a chance to talk with him about this before you see him again.

**WILSON:** "Darryl..."

**NOLAN:** "James, don't rush to put a Band-aid over this. It's nothing that's going to be patched up overnight."

**WILSON:** "You know me too well. Seems kind of unfair."

**NOLAN:** "I'm just doing my job."

**WILSON:** "I'm glad...that I called you. I'm glad you're his doctor."

**NOLAN:** "You know what? So am I."


	9. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 7

_House and Dr. Nolan talk about making amends. Not sure where I'm going with this. But thanks to all who are humoring me. _

_May continue it after the show starts and may not. But there will be at least one part after this._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"Did you do your homework?"

"No."

"Then what's that in your hand?"

"Fantasy football stats."

"…"

"Your place kicker's on the injured reserve list, by the way. Just thought you'd like to know."

"I'll be sure to make a substitution."

"For David Akers? There is no substitution."

"So...homework?"

"About that...I didn't exactly finish."

"I gave you two weeks."

"I was going to ask for an extension."

"Did you at least put some thought into it?"

"…"

"Let me see."

"…"

"You wrote two things."

"Yep."

"It was supposed to be twenty."

"I have that...dyscalculia. Horrible condition."

"I'd hate to see your checkbook."

"Don't even know where it is."

"Then I'd hate to see your credit report."

"Wilson pays all my bills...I think. I'll have to wait and see if the lights are on when I get back home."

"Well I guess we know what we'll be doing today."

"…"

"This is good though. You've got two things here, and they both seem pretty important. First one…moving. You hated moving around so much, having to keep starting over and leaving things behind. Your mother apparently hated it as well. You resented the fact that she never asserted that to your father."

"Yeah."

"Okay. That's good. Are you prepared to tell her that now?"

"Do I have to actually talk to her?"

"You can write a letter, which for you...I think would be more productive than a phone call. I'd like to see it before you send it though. Or at least have a chance to discuss the contents."

"…"

"It's important. I know you don't want to do this. But I want you to have closure on these issues. Your father is no longer living. But your mother is. It makes sense to resolve whatever you can with her while she's still around to resolve it."

"…"

"Number two. You just wrote the word _Vicodin_. To whom does that apply?"

"Who _else_ would it apply to?"

"You mentioned before that you resented James for holding your addiction against you, while simultaneously enabling it. Why? I mean…besides the obvious, logical reasons."

"I don't think he ever believed I was in pain."

"I'm just going to say that based on my own conversations with him, he seems to consider your pain to be real…or at least _real to you_. However…even if your perception is incorrect, I still think it's important for him to know how you feel about it."

"…"

"And I take it you didn't come up with anyone with whom _you _need to make amends."

"…"

"Did you even try?"

"…"

"Let's start with James. He's clearly the person that you're most socially involved with...at the moment. What do you need to make amends for?"

"I don't know. I already apologized for killing his girlfriend. I already apologized for almost costing him his job…both times. I already apologized for being...reckless."

"Yes to the latter. But we discussed the fact that he might not have interpreted those others as actual apologies."

"So?"

"So…that changes things. You need to find a way to communicate your feelings to him in a currency that he can accept."

"Oh, you and your saucy metaphors."

"I use them because they're a currency that_ you_ can accept."

"People will say we're in love."

"My reputation can take it."

"..."

"And what about_ him?_ What do you need him to make amends for?"

"Nothing."

"No. I don't think so. We were able to talk a bit about him asking you to risk your life. He acknowledged that he wasn't particularly supportive after Dr. Kutner's death and that he abandoned you temporarily after Amber's. He apologized for asking you to participate in a life threatening procedure. What else do you think is unresolved between you?"

"I don't know."

"I imagine there must be something. Actually, I _know_ there is."

"..."

"Skimming my notes...neither of you brought up the argument you had in his office, the evening that he packed up and left. That seems like it would be significant to me."

"It wasn't really an argument."

"A conversation then. What about that?"

"..."

"You seemed okay with the idea of you no longer being friends. You weren't happy about it. But you were willing to accept it, given the circumstances. You seemed really bothered by the implication that you'd _never been_."

"Well, obviously he wasn't serious. He came back, right?"

"That doesn't mean it didn't hurt, that it didn't plant seeds of doubt. You clearly have issues with abandonment, meaning this could continue to affect your relationship, whether you want it to or not."

"It's fine."

"Is it? I think we should put that down as something that needs to be addressed."

"..."

"And what of your misunderstood declaration of love?"

"Oh brother..."

"Usually when someone says _I love you_, it's intended to be a sign of affection or some way of..."

"It was the drugs."

"What? No. I don't think so."

"He was right. I was in pain. I burnt the hell out of my hand. He gave me more morphine. Any normal person would have been thankful. Not that I'm normal. I'm just saying, if I were..."

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah. I forgot. He was right. That's what happened."

"Greg, that's not what happened and you know it."

"If that's what he thinks happened, it doesn't matter what really happened."

"We continued to discuss the matter, even after you went to your room."

"Don't want to know about it."

"At all?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Just don't."

"He didn't know that you were serious."

"And yet you're still talking..."

"He wouldn't have reacted that way, had he known you were serious."

"I said I didn't want to know about it."

"You want me to drop this subject."

"For now, yes."

"This is important."

"Yep."

"So we will eventually have to deal with it."

"Yep."

"Just not today, huh?"

"Nope."

"Okay. Let's talk about your mother."

"What about her?"

"Amends."

"Oh...I don't know. Not calling her back for thirty years?"

"That's a start. You had a good reason, a very good reason. But that doesn't mean that she wasn't affected. What else?"

"I don't know."

"You've stated on several occasions that you weren't the most well behaved child. Did you do anything that you specifically regret?"

"Sure."

"Which?"

"I regret all of it."

"Then tell her that."

"She wouldn't care."

"Maybe she would."

"Why?"

"Because when one is seeking an apology for something, the best bargaining chip they have is to accept responsibility for their own transgressions."

"Yeah."

"What?"

"There is something else. But it's…maybe it's nothing."

"I bet it _is_ something."

"Remember I told you I was twelve when I figured out my dad wasn't my real dad?"

"Yeah."

"Around that time, I kind of stopped…letting her hug me."

"Trying to punish her perhaps?"

"Maybe. I don't know. It was supposed to be temporary...a couple days, maybe weeks."

"But it wasn't."

"We hugged after that…sometimes. But not really. It was…kind of superficial."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Guess."

"Touching her…it made me cringe."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know. I mean she's…that's not normal, to cringe when you're hugging your own mother."

"What would you be thinking, when this was happening?"

"_Please stop touching me_."

"How do you think you're supposed to feel when you're hugging your mother?"

"I don't know. But it was like...I felt like maybe there was something wrong with me, because of that. I don't know. I hate being hugged, which is totally abnormal. Normal people like to be touched. I can't help wondering if that was self imposed, if I did this to myself by refusing to hug my mother. Or worse yet, I was being punished for denying my mother that affection. It's stupid, I know. It defies logic and...science."

"Feelings aren't rational, Greg."

"And yet, you're smiling."

"Because I didn't have to ask you how you felt about something. You volunteered it."

"..."

"That's progress."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Greg, when you first came to see me, you couldn't articulate your feelings. You couldn't even admit that they existed."

"..."

"Let's talk about your dad."

"Oh, let's not."

"I realize that he's no longer living. But I think it would be beneficial to list the things you would like to have gotten an apology for."

"From him? Too many to count. Really, we'd need weeks to sort it all out. Hardly worth the trouble."

"So, let's narrow it down to maybe three to five major things."

"Well that thing that happened at the police station definitely ranks."

"When you were arrested for driving without a license. What about that do you specifically think you deserve an apology for?"

"I don't know. I mean, I know I was...wrong. I was stupid. Shouldn't of done it. But he didn't have to...humiliate me."

"That's true. He could have taken care of it himself, at home, without an audience, or perhaps chosen a different method of discipline altogether. But answer me this question...would you have willingly accepted your punishment if there weren't several other people there to help enforce it?"

"I was fifteen. So probably not."

"It's good that you can admit that. But that doesn't mean that it didn't affect you or that it wasn't traumatic. What else would you like an apology for?"

"Making me sleep in the yard."

"We talked about that. Your father gave you an ultimatum and you chose the option that seemed less undesirable. But once again, that doesn't mean you weren't affected. What else?"

"Sticking me in a bathtub of ice was a royally shitty thing to do."

"Wait...he actually submerged you in ice water? Why would he do that?"

"..."

"Was this...as a means of punishment?"

"I don't know."

"From the look on your face, I'd say you _do_ know."

"When we were living in Virginia, I wasn't supposed to go swimming until the _start_ of summer. My dad had arbitrarily decided that the water would be too cold before then, even though the community pool was heated and it was open to the public from March to September. We had a heat wave in the middle of April. I was supposed to go straight to the library after school and walk home at four. I…decided to go swimming instead."

"Without your father's consent, I take it."

"Yeah. My mom had this garden club thing. My dad was gone for the week, doing some training exercise. So I was supposed to stay at the library for two hours and then walk home. I was only ten years old. So ironically, that would be completely illegal now. But I suppose that's irrelevant."

"Did he find out?"

"Naturally. Some…other kid's dad told my mother that they'd seen me at the public pool. I'd lied and said I was at the library."

"What happened when your father found out?"

"He asked me about it. I…denied it."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"You were afraid of being punished."

"Yeah. Well…the only thing worse than lying is accusing an adult of lying, because all adults tell the truth. So if it was my word against theirs, I was screwed."

"But you _were_ lying."

"So?"

"So…your argument is fairly moot. The adult in question was telling the truth about what they'd seen you do."

"It's the principle of the matter."

"Okay. So what happened?"

"My dad invited the man and his son over to discuss it."

"I assume you were busted."

"Yeah."

"Did you volunteer the truth, or did you have to be persuaded?"

"I was…sufficiently threatened."

"With what?"

"It was an...ambiguous threat."

"What kind of ambiguous threat?"

"Somewhere along the lines of _you'd better...or else_."

"I see. And how did you respond to this ambiguous threat?"

"My dad…when I finally did tell the truth, he asked me to explain my actions."

"He did this in front of the other boy and his father?"

"Yes."

"What was your explanation?"

"I told him he was wrong. The water wasn't too cold at all. He told me that it was up to him to decide what was _too cold_."

"How did the boy's father react to that statement?"

"He disagreed that the water was too cold to swim in, but agreed that I should have abided by my father's rules regardless."

"And what did you think of that assessment?"

"…"

"So I assume you were punished."

"In a sense."

"In what sense?"

"My dad…filled the bathtub with cold water, dumped in two bags of ice and then ordered me to get inside it."

"What was the purpose of that?"

"I assume he was hoping to drive his point home about being the best judge of how cold is _too cold_."

"Did you get in?"

"Not…voluntarily. At first I thought...I don't know."

"You didn't think he was serious."

"No."

"You thought maybe he was just trying to frighten you, but wasn't planning to actually go through with it."

"I had no reason to think that. He wasn't the type to make empty threats."

"So there was some sort of struggle."

"I was still very skinny and short for my age. So it didn't take much effort on his part, to get me in there."

"Were you naked?"

"No, fortunately. I had my shorts on."

"How did he go about keeping you in there?"

"He…held me down."

"Did you ask to get out?"

"..."

"..."

"I...begged, more like."

"How long did he make you stay?"

"He had a stop watch. He wouldn't let me out until I'd _calmly and quietly_ endured the temperature of the water for sixty seconds."

"How long did it take you to do that?"

"I don't know. It was probably only a couple of minutes. But it seemed like...a while. I wanted to calm down. I tried hard...I just couldn't stop shaking and crying."

"Why did you try so hard?"

"..."

"Maybe you wanted to prove that you were right?"

"..."

"Did your father seem angry that you couldn't calm down?"

"No. He seemed...disappointed."

"How did he go about expressing that?"

"He actually_ said_ he was disappointed."

"How did that make you feel, that he was disappointed?"

"How do you think I felt?"

"..."

"Like...a failure."

"A failure at what?"

"I don't know, to be...whatever the hell it was he obviously wanted in a son."

"You think what he wanted in a son was a boy who could endure freezing temperatures and control both his physiological and emotional reactions? I don't imagine too many such people exist."

"..."

"And you didn't yet know that he wasn't your real father."

"No."

"Did you suspect?"

"More like hoped."

"But that certainly explains why you might be motivated to chase down the possibility of false paternity."

"..."

"When did you find that out he was dying?"

"About eight months prior."

"And you didn't see or speak to him during that time?"

"..."

"Why not?"

"No reason to. Didn't have anything to say."

"Didn't have anything you _wanted_ to say, or simply didn't think there was any point in saying it?"

"..."

"Did _he_ have anything to say?"

"..."

"But you didn't communicate with him at all."

"Nope."

"I'm not sure what the real reason for that is. But based on your expression right now, I think perhaps you're ashamed of it."

"..."

"Maybe you'd feel better if you told me what it was."

"..."

"Greg. You can cry in front of me. You know that. You'll be no less of a man in my eyes. I know that it hurts to talk about this. I would be more concerned about you if you were feeling absolutely nothing right now."

"..."

"Okay?"

"..."

"I'll just give you a minute."

"..."

"..."

"I was...afraid."

"Of what?"

"Of _him_."

"How old was he when he passed?"

"Seventy-three."

"And he died of...congestive heart failure?"

"It was valvular heart disease. Ebstein's anomaly."

"That's...very rare. He must have already been aware of the diagnosis."

"No. My father wasn't a big fan of going to the doctor, or doctors in general. Military doctors weren't that much more advanced than regular ones, back in the fifties. His GP apparently detected an arrhythmia during a routine check-up that my mom managed to talk him into. They did an echo. Ironically, it's a good thing that doctors never found it before. He'd never have been allowed in the Marine Corps."

"What do you think he'd have done, if he couldn't be in the military?"

"He'd probably be a cop or a fireman. Or some other macho type career."

"I take it he was too old for a transplant?"

"By the time they diagnosed him, they decided the risk factors of surgery would outweighed the benefits. He didn't want to die in a hospital. So they sent him home with antiarrhythmic drugs and told him to take it easy."

"He must have been quite unwell."

"My mom said he went on as normal for a while, still mowed the lawn and took out the trash and all that. I don't think he was actually bedridden until the very end, maybe the last few weeks. But either way, I can't imagine him so...incapacitated."

"But what was the source of your apprehension? You must have realized he was too frail to cause you any physical harm."

"It wasn't that."

"What was it, then?"

"..."

"Perhaps you were afraid to see him so ill. You said he'd never been."

"It wasn't that either."

"Perhaps you were concerned that he'd attempt to make amends, and you weren't ready to do that. You weren't ready to let go of that grudge."

"..."

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"..."

"Because he'd be ill and dying. Then you'd have no choice but to see him as human and vulnerable. And since he never allowed _you_ the freedom to be human or vulnerable, you didn't want to grant him that. Denying him that was the only control over your relationship that you had left."

"Maybe."

"Some part of you regrets that, doesn't it. Some part of you actually misses him, misses knowing there was still a chance to make things right, even if you never planned to take advantage of it."

"..."

"I think you realize now that maybe he loved you, as much as he was capable of doing. He just didn't know how to show you that in a way that you could appreciate. And that's frustrating and upsetting, because the possibility of him actually loving you forces you to question your own role in the conflict between you."

"He tried to contact me a couple times...more than a couple, actually."

"He tried?"

"He'd...leave messages at my work and home, sent a Christmas card."

"What kind of messages?"

"Just saying he wanted to talk to me, wanted to...I don't know, work things out."

"Had he ever given you a Christmas card before?"

"No. Even when I was a kid, my mother always picked out the presents. She'd even buy her own and stick his name on them. She'd sign his name of all the cards she sent out too. It was pathetic."

"What was the last message he left?"

"..."

"That shrug tells me that it _was_, and that whatever he said made you extremely uncomfortable."

"..."

"What did he say _exactly?"_

"I can't...tell you."

"Can't or don't want to?"

"Honestly....I don't really want to."

"Well...it's good that you can admit that. But I still think you should tell me."

"Of course you do. You want to know everything."

"Pot calling a kettle black?"

"I'm okay with that."

"Perhaps he insulted you in some fashion, said something hurtful?"

"No."

"..."

"He said that he needed to make peace with me, that he knew what I'd found out about him, but it wasn't my mother's fault that she'd cheated. It was his, and it had nothing to do with me. He said that biology didn't matter. I would always be his son and that he understood why I didn't want to see him. He said it was okay if I didn't want to call him back."

"How did that make you feel, that he admitted to the unfairness or that he'd validated your right to maintain a necessary boundary?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"Angry, I guess."

"Why do you think that is?"

"..."

"Perhaps because he could have said it sooner. I notice you had a difficult time accepting an apology from James, based on the premise that he could have apologized earlier. You seem to think that somehow diminishes the value of the apology."

"You don't?"

"No, I don't. But it makes sense that you'd be angry. That's a perfectly reasonable feeling. He must have thought so too. You went all those years with those issues unresolved. Only when he was dying did he see the importance of addressing them. it was incredibly unfair."

"..."

"But you couldn't appease him, because you were under the misconception that awarding him forgiveness was like telling him whatever he did was okay. You'd be allowing him to have control over you. What you don't seem to realize is that you would actually be taking away his control. By making a conscious decision to forgive someone, you're taking away their ability to control how you feel. You are in essence saying _I refuse to be angry about this anymore_."

"..."

"Was that the last you heard of him?"

"Yeah."

"When did he leave that particular message?"

"Middle of June."

"You said that Amber died in May. So this was that during the period of time that you and James were...estranged."

"Yeah."

"I imagine that not having any sort of support system made that situation even more difficult to endure."

"..."

"Who _did_ you turn to for support?"

"My buddies...Johnnie Walker, Jim Beam, Jack Daniels...Captain Morgan..."

"Ah. But you can't really talk to them."

"You can actually. People will usually assume you're crazy if you do."

"_Did_ you love your father?"

"No."

"You sound like you're not sure."

"I...honestly don't know. I'm not sure if I even know what that means."

"I think maybe you did. I think maybe one of the reasons you hated him was because you couldn't stop loving him, no matter what he did. You felt like he'd written you off and you wanted to be able to do the same to him."

"Maybe."

"Do you wish that you'd told him while you had the chance?"

"..."

"I fully understand why you couldn't. But that doesn't change how not doing so affected you. I imagine there's a lot of unresolved pain, guilt and shame."

"When I saw him at the funeral, laid out in that casket, wearing his dress blues...I wanted to hate him, you know? I went there, expecting to hate him. I couldn't think of anything but...that stupid flag, and all the things he'd...God, I don't know. It's such a fucking cliche."

"You were proud of him, proud to be his son."

"He doesn't deserve it."

"Why not?"

"He just doesn't."

"Maybe it scared you that you felt proud, because you realized that the things you were holding against him were long over and had become rather trivial over time. Could that be why you didn't wish to attend the funeral? You didn't want to feel loss or grief. You wanted to keep hating him and you knew that you couldn't do that if you were confronted with his death in person. You knew you couldn't do that if he was sincere about his desire to work things out."

"..."

"Do you think he was sincere?"

"..."

"Oh, Greg. It's okay."

"..."

"He knew that you loved him."

"No."

"Why?"

"Never told him...never said it, not even once."

"Did he ever tell you, even once?"

"Nope."

"Why_ didn't_ you tell him?"

"..."

"Think about it, really think."

"I don't know."

"You do know. I know it hurts to think about it. But it's okay to tell me."

"I thought what if...what if he didn't say it back? Then what?"

"But that's a reasonable fear, Greg."

"It's pathetic."

"You need to stop being so hard on yourself. Human beings hurt. Human beings experience fear. They don't like pain or humiliation. They don't like being submerged in ice. They don't like taking risks that might end in misery. They want the people they care about to tell them that they are loved. They want to be held and cherished. I think that considering the childhood you had, you emerged remarkably well."

"..."

"You are so much braver than you think."

"Right. Can we talk about something else now?"

"Yes, actually. The other issue I wanted to discuss with you is your sleeping. You cleverly avoided talking about it thus far. But I really think we should address it."

"Great."

"For a nightmare to cause a panic attack, it has to be fairly serious."

"..."

"Tell me again about this recurring dream of yours."

"It's lame."

"I bet it's not. You said you've had it seven times now...or some variation."

"It's just a dream. Maybe it doesn't mean anything. Side effect of the drugs."

"You don't believe that."

"..."

"Let's hear it."

"It's like…Kutner and Amber and Chase…he's a former fellow of mine. They're passengers on this bus."

"The bus that crashed?"

"Just a generic bus. And there's no one else on it. It's just us. But it's...weird."

"Doesn't sound that weird so far."

"Trust me, it is."

"How?"

"It's like they're not…adults. I mean, they're themselves. They're just not...adults."

"So they're children…in the dream."

"Little kids…not old enough to walk, except they can talk like adults."

"So…physically they're children. Mentally they're adults."

"Yeah."

"So, do they talk in the dream?"

"No. I mean they do. But it's not like their lips are moving. It's more like...I can hear them in my mind."

"And what happens in the dream?"

"The bus crashes, and they all call out for help at the same time."

"What sort of help? Are they injured?"

"Yeah."

"So, what do you do?"

"I try to help them. But no matter how fast...I mean, it's like can only save one of them. The other two, they always die."

"How do they die?"

"They...bleed to death."

"From where?"

"Lacerations...carotid usually. Sometimes it's the femoral."

"But you want to save them all."

"I always feel like I can, if I just move fast enough. But it never works."

"Who do you usually try to save first?"

"That's the weird thing."

"Okay."

"I always try to save Chase first."

"This is a former fellow. His father was the famous Australian rheumatologist?"

"You knew him?"

"Rowan Chase? I knew _of_ him. His name is in several textbooks. But we never met, no."

"..."

"Surely the obvious symbolism in this dream hasn't escaped you."

"..."

"Are you particularly close with this Dr. Chase?"

"Not...really."

"Not really? Sounds like you're not sure"

"We hung out a few times, went bowling. He's…I'm old enough to be his dad."

"So the age difference means you can't be friends, or does the concept of father son relationship trouble you?"

"..."

"This is the same young man you called and asked to search your apartment for drugs and alcohol."

"Yeah."

"You could just have easily asked James. It would probably have been more convenient."

"His mom was an alcoholic."

"Dr. Chase's?"

"Yes."

"She's recovered?"

"No, she's dead."

"From...delirium tremens?"

"Yeah."

"How old was she when she died?"

"Late thirties."

"That's an uncommon cause of death for someone so young. She must have started drinking in her teens, possibly earlier."

"..."

"So because of his own personal experience, you thought Dr. Chase would be more understanding of your request?"

"No. I think he'd be more likely to find all the good hiding spots. I already know from experience that there's places that Wilson just wouldn't think to check."

"So it was just logic."

"Yeah."

"Isn't this also the same young man you arranged the bachelor party for?"

"Yeah."

"That doesn't seem like something someone would do for a casual acquaintance. Usually that task falls upon the best man."

"His real best man was flying in from Australia and wasn't available."

"So...why you? Why _did_ you arrange the bachelor party?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? You seemed almost enthusiastic about it, when you mentioned it before. Did he ask you?"

"No. His wife actually asked Wilson."

"And he declined?"

"I just sort of...took over."

"I see. Why?"

"They…met while they were working for me, Chase and his wife."

"They were both fellows of yours. They met while they were working for you, so you feel connected to them and their relationship."

"No."

"It's okay if you do. It's okay to become attached to people over time. It's okay to feel connected to people that you're exposed to on a regular basis, even if the feeling isn't completely mutual."

"..."

"So Dr. Chase in the dream, but his wife isn't, meaning that it's probably not specifically related to their relationship. But you said you've had some variation of this dream seven times now. I think it's clear why Amber and Dr. Kutner might be present. But what of this other young man?"

"I almost killed him."

"Almost?"

"He's allergic to strawberries. I knew this. I hired a stripper for his bachelor party who I knew wore strawberry flavored body butter and…I don't know. I feel like I forgot. But I just can't believe that I would do that."

"He went into shock?"

"Most of the guests were doctors. One of them had an epi pen. He still had to go to the hospital for oxygen and steroids."

"You said you'd barely slept. Perhaps you were too distracted to remember such details."

"No."

"No? You need to believe there's a reason for everything. Why does it always have to be something for which you're to blame?"

"Because it usually is."

"…"

"And I hit him."

At the party?"

"No. Three years ago. I…was detoxing. He was in my face and I didn't feel like dealing with him. So I hit him."

"Did you cause him any injury?"

"Just a bruise on his jaw."

"Your aggression makes sense, in that context. I'm sure he must have known that at the time."

"..."

'He obviously hasn't held a grudge."

"He didn't even care. He just…tucked his tail and went about his business."

"It bothered you that he wouldn't assert his needs, that he wouldn't be willing to stand up for himself when he was being mistreated. Why do you think that is?"

"I suppose you already know."

"Because you know how it feels to be mistreated by someone you love, and you didn't want him to experience that."

"…"

"Is that a _yes?"_

"He doesn't_ love_ me."

"Okay. Someone that you _care_ about, then."

"..."

"Do you care about him?"

"I don't _not_ care about him."

"Why is it so hard for you to admit that you care about someone?"

"..."

"Did you apologize for these things, hitting him and the uh...allergic reaction?"

"I tried to."

"He wouldn't accept it?"

"No. He…insisted it wasn't necessary."

"Do you think he was lying?"

"…"

"You know that he wasn't lying. He really was okay with it. He really wasn't holding it against you. And it wasn't because he was naive. You couldn't wallow in guilt if he was refusing to hold a grudge, or to define you by your mistakes."

"I _should_ be wallowing in guilt. I killed Amber, almost killed Chase…"

"And you drove Dr. Kutner to commit suicide?"

"…"

"That's where you were headed. I thought I'd beat you to it."

"..."

"What else can we pin on you, while we're sitting here? Perhaps the Kennedy assassination is your fault as well."

"You don't know the things I've done."

"Then tell me."

"Foreman quit, because he said he didn't want to end up like me...and I forced a woman whose mother died of Huntington's to get tested."

"Why do you think other people's opinions of you are more valid than your own?"

"..."

"Dr. Foreman quit because he didn't want to end up like who he _thinks_ you are, which I doubt he really knows for sure. I doubt too many people know for sure. He also came back. He stayed away for all of eight weeks. And if the results of the Huntington's test were positive, then you did the woman a favor."

"It was cruel."

"Like telling Kutner's parents it was their fault their son died?"

"..."

"This woman was another fellow of yours...the one you refer to by number?"

"Thirteen."

"So you were confused. Like when you spoke with Kutner's parents, you said something and you don't know why. You don't understand your own feelings. So you draw connections wherever you can. If you don't understand something and it ends up being bad, then everything you don't understand must be bad. _You_ must be bad."

"..."

People make mistakes, Greg. They don't alter your value as a person."

"Yeah, doc? What would it take to alter my value?"

"What do you mean?"

"You keep saying that. I get the feeling I could tell you anything and you'd say it was okay."

"I never said it was _okay_. I said it could be explained. Everything you do, you do for a reason. There are people in this world who are genuinely vindictive and malicious. You are not one of them."

"You don't know that."

"Anyone who has endured as much pain as you have usually either becomes a sadist, which you're not, or they have a hard time inflicting it on others. Based on the time we've spent talking, I think it's safe to say you're troubled by the idea of inflicting pain on others."

"Right."

"The mark of a good person isn't perfection, Greg. It's humility."

"So I can do whatever I want, as long as I'm willing to admit I'm wrong. Seems too easy."

"Not _whatever you want_. The goal is to do what's right as often as possible. But no human being can maintain that standard all the time. That's why we have grace and forgiveness. If you can give it, you can receive it. And you _can _give it."

"..."

"How did you go about _forcing_ this young woman to get tested for Huntington's?"

"Just...goaded her. I stole her water bottle and ran a sputum PCR."

"And then what?"

"She didn't want to see the results."

"You didn't tell her what they were? Surely you must have been tempted."

"They were sealed."

"You didn't look?"

"No."

"What _did_ you do?"

"Threw them away."

"So you respected her privacy."

"I told her she was a coward."

"Maybe she is."

"..."

"Who wouldn't be, in that situation?"

"..."

"If she had a parent who died of the disease, she knew long before she ever met you that she had a fifty percent chance herself. I don't see how you're to blame for her diagnosis."

"She was happier before she knew."

"Was she any less likely to die? Was she any less ill?"

"No."

"Then it doesn't matter. Is she taking precautions? Did she change her diet, start doing physical therapy?"

"Yeah. She's...involved in some clinical trials."

"Which she probably wouldn't have bothered to do, had she not been diagnosed. The only things that changed, changed for the better."

"Doubt she sees it that way."

"You need to believe you're an ass, because then the things that people say about you are true. That way it's okay for them to misunderstand you, to not care enough to get to know you."

"..."

"I think you should add this woman to the list of people with whom you will make amends."

"It won't change anything."

"I would be willing to wager a large sum of money that it will."

"..."

"It will make you feel better. And even if she wasn't capable or willing to admit it, she would respect your humility."

"..."

"The first step in getting people to see you for who you really are is to start behaving like you really are."

"I don't think I know who that is."

"Well Greg, that's what you're here to find out."


	10. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 8

_House and Dr. Nolan discuss his discharge plans_

* * *

****

Another Sixty Minutes

"Let's talk about you going back to work."

"…"

"You know it's going to be soon. You're being discharged on the eleventh of October. That's twenty-three days away. What are your plans?"

"…"

"You don't want to have this conversation."

"I didn't say that."

"You don't _have_ to say that. I can tell by your posture. What are you specifically apprehensive about?"

"…"

"I spoke with Dr. Cuddy, as you know. Your job is still there waiting for you. You'd have less administrative responsibility and limited treatment privileges, of course. But you'd have the same medical benefits, same pay, same office, same parking space."

"Yeah, it'll be like med-school all over again. I wonder if I'll need a hall pass to use the restroom."

"This isn't going to be easy. You know that. But I think it's worth the effort."

"Of course you do. You're not the one who has to do it."

"…"

"Sorry."

"It's okay. That's a reasonable observation. You're right. I _don't_ have to do it. But you do and I definitely think you can. We've discussed the fact that you derive more personal fulfillment from your job than any other aspects of your life. And while I'd still like you to work on learning to derive fulfillment from personal relationships, I think it makes sense for you to put your energy there for now."

"There is no _there_."

"I just told you there is."

"It's the not the same _there_ that it was when I left."

"Change is hard. Change for _you _is hard. Which change do you think will be hardest?"

"Sharing my position with a former fellow is about an eight out of ten on the suckage scale."

"Dr. Foreman."

"Yes."

"I actually met him at a benefit for the National Parkinson Foundation in 2006."

"Lucky you."

"He's very headstrong, confident in his ideas…kind of like you, actually."

"Oh, but we're _nothing alike_."

"You're basing that on the fact that he said he didn't want to _turn into _you?"

"Among other things."

"You mentioned this twice before. But we didn't really discuss it. If you are indeed going to be sharing a department with this person, it might be helpful to discuss whatever unresolved issues the two of you might have."

"…"

"Tell me more about him. What kind of person is he?"

"…"

"Just the facts, Greg. I'm not looking for a full biography here."

"He's thirty-six. He's got a younger brother who is serving time for drug trafficking. His father is a retired plumber and volunteers at his church. His mother is a housewife with late stage Alzheimer's. He's dating one of my other fellows…at least he was when I left. He kind of has an aversion to commitment. So they may have broken up by now."

"So you know a lot about him."

"I told you I hired a PI."

"Does he know as much about you?"

"..."

"I noticed that he dresses rather well."

"Yeah. I think he even coordinates his socks and underwear, although I have no proof of that."

"Do you think he might be compensating for something?"

"He stole a car when he was sixteen, spent some time in juvenile detention."

"What sort of people are his parents?"

"I've never met his mother. But his dad seems...like a typical working class, middle aged guy, humble and all that."

"It's probably hard to shake that stereotypical background when your brother and parents are still voluntarily marinating in it."

"Yeah."

"I'm guessing he thinks that's what people see when they look at him. The clothing is just a costume, intended to divert their attention from his past. It's not enough for him to be intelligent, educated or accomplished."

"Apparently not."

"Do you think he wants your job?"

"I _know_ he does."

"Are you prepared to fight him for it."

"I don't know."

"Seems unfair to have to fight someone for something that was once rightfully yours."

"Yeah."

"Have you considered what your other options are?"

"I thought about teaching."

"At the university."

"At _some _university."

"I applaud your willingness to pursue alternative employment. But I believe that just being discharged will be enough of a life change for you to handle. Attempting to also change jobs or relocate might have disastrous results."

"If my job's gone, there's really nothing to stick around for."

"But you don't know that. You haven't even tried yet."

"You just want me close enough to Philly for follow-up appointments."

"Yes, I do. Because I think that will be vital to the maintenance stage of your recovery."

"Thing is, I don't really want to go back to work...right away."

"Why not?"

"I just...I don't know."

"I think it would be a mistake for you to have too much idle time on your hands. You yourself have admitted that your unhealthy behaviors tend to be precipitated by boredom."

"Yeah."

"If you're adamant and you really don't think you're ready to go back to work...I can keep you on disability for an additional thirty days. But after that, you'll have to file a whole new claim."

"..."

"Do you think that will be enough time for you to adjust, or to procure employment elsewhere?"

"I don't know."

"Have you discussed these matters with James?"

"Why would I? It's not his call."

"That doesn't mean you might not value his input."

"…"

"Unless _he's_ what you're trying to avoid."

"Considering what we now know about each other, I think that any interaction we have from this point on is going to be like living in _Awkwardsville_."

"He didn't seem bothered to learn that you have contemplated him in a sexual context."

"That's because he's used to being told that by everyone. His patients contemplate him. The cashier in the cafeteria _contemplates_ him. Hell, he probably contemplates himself."

"And you didn't too bothered to learn that he'd been sleeping in your bed."

"It's not like I was _in it _at the time. Just because Goldilocks sat in Papa Bear's chair, doesn't mean she wants to eat his porridge...if you know what I mean."

"Is see. Do you _want _him to eat your porridge?"

"..."

"Perhaps that's the problem. If your bed really is _just right_, it's too easy, too convenient. If there's no struggle or challenge, you can't trust it. It doesn't seem real, meaning it could vanish at any time. Then you'd be left alone again. That's quite a risk to take. It's safer to just not try at all."

"I refuse to believe he's been harboring feelings for me for fifteen years. I mean, he had countless opportunities to do something about it and didn't. And that metaphor was over, way before it even started."

"We talked about this, the importance he places on maintaining a certain appearance."

"Yeah…one which I doubt would include me, even if some part of him wanted it."

"Easier to run away then."

"Or limp."

"So where would you go?"

"My mom's trying to sell the house. There's water damage. It needs some major, structural repairs. Thought maybe I could help keep her from getting stiffed by contractors.

"That's very thoughtful of you."

"No reason to stay away from her, now that _he's_ gone."

"But Kentucky is a ways from New Jersey. Would you find a new therapist in Concord?"

"I don't know."

"Another reason why I think you should stay."

"It's going to be a forty-five minute drive out here to see you, once a week."

"I already told you that I'd waive your co-pay in lieu of gas money."

"It's not about the money."

"It's about the time?"

"I just…don't like driving."

"Because of your leg?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Why does it matter? I need a reason?"

"Most people wouldn't. You do."

"Took a lot of road trips as a kid."

"Because of all the moving?"

"Just don't like being in the car for long periods of time."

"That's reasonable."

"Good to know."

"Perhaps I could come to you."

"That's ridiculous. I'm sure you have better things to do."

"If it's the difference between you continuing therapy and you quitting therapy, that _is _the better thing to do."

"…"

"Or I could meet you halfway. I have a friend at Lourdes in Willingsboro. He doesn't spend a lot of time in his office. So I could easily use it for an hour a week."

"…"

"Maybe you're looking for an excuse to sabotage yourself by discontinuing therapy altogether."

"…"

"What are you goals, Greg? What would you like to see happen?"

"I just want things to be the way they were."

"But you know the way they were wasn't healthy."

"I just meant, in regards to my employment."

"But you know that's highly unlikely. No matter what happens, good or bad, things _will _be different. That is the one guarantee here."

"So?"

"So wishing that were not so is consciously choosing to be disappointed."

"Like I need an excuse."

"What about in regards to your relationships? What are your goals there? We discussed establishing boundaries with specific people in your life."

"…"

"How do you plan to implement those boundaries?"

"I was thinking about buying a taser or maybe just getting some of the yellow tape…_Police line. Do not cross_."

"We talked about the _do unto others _thing. I know it's a cliché. But it's true that if you respect other people's privacy, they're more likely to follow suit and respect yours. Or at the very least, it's more reasonable to expect it. You'd be setting an example of how you wish to be treated."

"Yeah, because that always worked so well in the Old Testament."

"And what about Dr. Cuddy? You said that you thought it was possible that you'd been leading her on, that you'd given her the false impression that you might be interested in a romantic relationship. I know you've stated on several occasions that you have a tendency to be candid, that perhaps you've made sexually inappropriate comments."

"Yeah."

"Yeah to which?"

"Yeah, I've made sexually inappropriate comments."

"How does she generally react to that?"

"She used to hate it."

"She doesn't anymore?"

"No...I mean, when I first started working for her she was fairly professional. It was all _Doctor House_ this and _Doctor House_ that."

"So why did you do it?"

"I don't know."

"Take a guess."

"To annoy her?"

"Perhaps she got used to it, became desensitized."

"No. I think she actually started to like it. Which is just…It's like…I don't know."

"You were counting on her to stop you from being an ass."

"Exactly. When she started encouraging it…I don't know. It was weird."

"She took the fun out of it for you, by refusing to react?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"Perhaps you were troubled by the idea of her being willing to tolerate your behavior. You made a similar observation about Dr. Chase."

"Not the same thing."

"Isn't it? You rely on other people to establish boundaries with you. When they don't, you're completely lost."

"..."

"Why do you think you like it here?"

"I don't _like_ it here."

"A few weeks ago you told me that you wanted to stay, that you didn't want to go home."

"I was...psychotic from Loxapine withdrawal."

"Maybe. Or maybe you secretly crave order. Maybe you secretly crave having other people tell you what to do and when. This environment provides you with both."

"..."

"Those are reasonable things to want, Greg. Because you feel secure when you know for sure that you're doing what you're supposed to be, or when you know that you can screw up, but it doesn't matter. Someone else will be there to fix it."

"..."

"But you say that Dr. Cuddy is encouraging your misbehavior."

"More or less."

"This is what happens when people try too hard to be their child's friend, instead of their parent."

"Are you saying Cuddy is like my mother? Because that's all kinds of creepy."

"She…seems to have a parental role in your life. She's obviously an authority figure. Does she have anything in common with your mother?"

"Aside from the complete lack of a backbone? They're both women…as far as I know. My mother never went to college. She never even had a real job."

"Did she want to?"

"No idea. She never mentioned any goals or aspirations. It was like she was programmed to go along with whatever my dad wanted."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Guilt?"

"You think she complied with your father's wishes out of guilt. For...cheating on him and bearing an illegitimate child?"

"..."

"And Dr. Cuddy is fairly ambitious, driven by a desire to succeed. What was your mother driven by?"

"I just told you, my father."

"I meant figuratively."

"I don't know. She seemed to care most about neutralizing conflict, about keeping the peace, about everyone getting along…even if it was completely superficial. And it almost always was."

"Is Dr. Cuddy superficial?"

"She adopted a designer crack baby to match her couch."

"You've stated before that your mother only had you and stayed married to your father because she felt that was what she was supposed to do…in order to maintain an image. Do you think you might be projecting that onto Dr. Cuddy?"

"No."

"Does that similarity between she and your mother make her more difficult to respect?"

"No. Her wardrobe makes her difficult to respect."

"I did notice that she dresses rather liberally, for a dean of medicine."

"You've...met her?"

"I got together with her to discuss your returning to work. I thought it would be better than conducting it over the phone."

"Where exactly did you _get together_?"

"My friend's office at Lourdes."

"…"

"That bothers you, that we spoke in person?

"No....might bother you wife though."

"I imagine that seeing her in such attire on a regular basis makes her sexuality rather difficult to ignore."

"…"

"Have you ever thought about telling her that it makes you uncomfortable?"

"No."

"Maybe you like being uncomfortable."

"Maybe."

"Seems rather unfair to her."

"How so? She's choosing to dress that way. What does she care if I enjoy looking at her. I can't possibly be the only one. Actually, I _know_ I'm not the only one. I'm surprised she doesn't get jumped on her way to the parking lot at night."

"So you're bothered by this, but not enough to change it. Because you know that if it changes, you won't have her to ogle anymore."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Would you consider getting involved with her?"

"Not for more than thirty minutes. Actually, that's probably fairly presumptuous. It would be like that car jacking movie, except the title would be _Done In Sixty Seconds_."

"You finish that quickly?"

"Or not at all. Depends on the...circumstances. With her I'm thinking it would be the former."

"So why wouldn't you consider getting involved with her, aside from your apparent erectile dysfunction?"

"She just adopted a kid. She can hardly handle balancing that with her job. I couldn't imagine her balancing that with a job and a relationship. She'd be looking for a father for her child, not a…boyfriend."

"So it sounds like you don't really respect her. Does she respect _you?"_

"I doubt it."

"Why?"

"She treats me like I'm an idiot in regards to anything that isn't purely medical. Actually, so do most of the people in my life."

"How so?"

"Like the kid. She had a Simhat Bat, which is a Jewish naming ceremony that was invented during the sixties, because all those girls who didn't get the benefit of being circumcised in front of family and friends were feeling left out. She didn't want me there. But she invited me anyway."

"Why would she do that?"

"She was hoping I would turn her down."

"Did you?"

"No, I accepted."

"How did you find out that she didn't really want you there?"

"She told Wilson…Wilson told me."

"And how did that make you feel, that she didn't want you there? I imagine she must have invited other colleagues, who she apparently _did_ want there."

"I don't know. I didn't really even want to go. I just…figured she'd assume that I'd turn her down and wanted to give her the opposite of whatever she was expecting."

"Why?"

"…"

"Maybe you were playing games too…which leads me back to the showing by example thing. If you want people to stop messing with you, then you're going to have to stop messing with them first."

"Yeah."

"I take it you didn't end up going."

"No. I stayed home."

"Did you want to go?"

"I think maybe I did."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to be normal for once, do the normal thing. I thought maybe…if I acted normal…"

"You'd _be_ normal."

"..."

"But she was already expecting abnormal, meaning that _normal_ was going to elicit suspicion."

"Yeah."

"Did you share this observation with her?"

"Not exactly."

"You said that pretty much everyone in your life assumes that you're an idiot. What did you mean by that?"

"I just mean…when Cuddy got the kid, she was pissed that she had to work so much. She was pissed that she had to work at all, like that was somehow my fault. She claimed that the majority of her job consisting of babysitting me. But I know there's no way that can be true."

"And how did that specifically create a problem for you?"

"She wanted vengeance."

"In what form?"

"She…played some practical jokes."

"What kind of practical jokes?"

"Turned off the heat in my apartment, set up a trip wire in the doorway to my office...stole my cane."

"That's…rather unprofessional. It actually borders on illegal. Did you actually trip over the wire?"

"I didn't even see it there."

"Were you injured?"

"Just, you know…a scrape. Tweaked my wrist a little."

"But you could have been seriously injured. If you'd sprained or broken your wrist, you wouldn't be able to use your cane. Did you point _that_ out to her?"

"I've got two hands."

"Why is it so hard for you to assert your rights?"

"It wasn't a big deal."

"Did she apologize?"

"Sort of."

"So what will you do to avoid this happening in the future?"

"No idea, because I didn't do anything to make it happen the first time."

"You're protected by the Americans With Disabilities Act. Perhaps you can file a complaint against her."

"Yeah that would go really far. Fifty percent of the complaints filed in the hospital are _against_ me."

"Would you be willing to seek legal counsel if anything like this happens again?"

"I don't know."

"I think perhaps it's important that the people in your life realize you have limits to what you're willing to tolerate."

"Considering my track record, I think they would consider that immensely hypocritical."

"But again, the goal is to lead by example. If your behavior improves and theirs doesn't, that's on them. If they can't get over who you used to be or what you used to do, once you've made amends for it, that's their problem. You're only responsible for yourself."

"That's that wonderful _disengagement_ thing Dr. Gender Bender was talking about in the 12 steps group."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Why do you insist on calling him that?"

"Because in case you haven't noticed, _he_ used to be a _she_."

"Why does who he used to be matter more than who he is now? How is that even relevant?"

"It's not. It's just...kind of hard to miss."

"How would you feel if people identified you by the fact that you're an alcoholic or a drug addict, even though you are currently clean and sober?"

"…"

"I'm not scolding you, Greg. I'm just saying…think about it. Think about why you say the things you do, because you claim to not know."

"..."　

"Okay…you're almost completely tapered off of the methadone, which is great. You're taking fifty milligrams a day now. How's your pain?"

"It's not gone. But it's...lower."

"Number?"

"Between a one and three most days. No higher than a four since the initial detox."

"That's good."

"Zero would be better."

"Are you ever at a zero?"

"..."

"When?"

"Usually for a few hours, right after a workout."

"Endorphins?"

"Yeah."

"You've admitted to self mutilating in order to trigger an endorphin rush. Any chance you might try that again?"

"I doubt it."

"Why not?"

"Most of those...I was at a nine or ten. It was breakthrough pain."

"So you don't anticipate that happening now?"

"I don't know."

"Do you have someone you can call, if you think about hurting yourself?"

"Like who?"

"Like anyone. James or Dr. Chase perhaps?"

"I'm not some...emo teen cutter. I'm just...there was a point to it."

"I'm pretty sure all those teens think there's a point to theirs as well."

"It's not an issue. Okay?"

"Okay."

"..."

"You're still on five different medications right now, including the methadone, and looks like a sixth is _as needed_."

"So?"

"Some of these are taken twice or three times daily. How are you planning to go about making sure you remember to take all those pills?"

"You think I could forget?"

"All it takes is once Greg, and then you're telling yourself you don't need the drugs and before you know it, you're back here again. I'm telling you this only because I've seen it before. You're doing great on the Loxapine and Bupropion. I want you to keep doing great."

"I can get one of those little, plastic pill organizer thingies from the pharmacy. Has the days of the week printed on it and everything."

"And you'll remember to take it with you?"

"Yes, Mommy. I'm a big boy now."

"Would it help if you got a daily courtesy call?"

"I was thinking you could just pin a note to my overalls."

"I see."

"I'm not an idiot."

"No, but you are human. I've heard that humans are capable of making mistakes, and that sometimes those mistakes have consequences."

"…"

"I just don't want you to crash, Greg."

"I'll be seeing you once a week, right? If I forget, you can remind me."

"So you _will _be coming to your weekly follow ups?"

"Hey…it's not like I'll have anything else to do."

"I hope that eventually…that is not the case."

"Yes, I'm going to suddenly win friends and influence people. Thank you Dr. Nolan, for casting your magic spell on my life."

"Based on what you've told me, I think you already have some friends…two or three at least."

"Right. I'm sure you can set up a play date for us."

"I think you're old enough to set up your own play dates."

"But not old enough to remember to take my meds?"

"Right. Sorry. You're right. I just…"

"Invested a lot of time in me and don't want it to go to waste. Yeah, I get it."

"Is that an unreasonable fear?"

"Given my history? No. You have no reason to think I won't fuck this up somehow."

"That's not what I'm afraid of, Greg. I'm afraid of the things that are outside of your control, and how you will react to them if you aren't sufficiently prepared."

"Right."

"Promise me that you'll talk to me."

"Yeah, okay."

"And you can call me too. You don't have to just see me in person. You can leave messages with me here. Or you can have me paged, if it's an emergency."

"…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Are you okay?"

"Mmm hmm."

"What are you feeling?"

"..."

"But you're definitely feeling something."

"I was just thinking…that this must be what it's like."

"What _what's_ like?"

"To have someone care about what happens to you."

"…"

"…"

"If you're trying to make me cry…congratulations."

"Payback's a bitch, isn't it?"

"It is."

"…"

"And I do believe you still owe me one decent, completely squirm and fidget-free hug."

"..."

"I intend to collect before I let you out of here."

"You're evil."

"I know."

* * *


	11. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 9

_House and Dr. Nolan discuss the parallels between him being discharged and him moving so much as a kid_

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"You're going home next week."

"Yep."

"Are you excited?"

"Yes."

"..."

"I'm about to lose control and _I think I like it."_

"..."

"Too late. I saw you smile."

"..."

"..."

"The reason I ask is because...you actually look kind of…terrified."

"…"

"It's healthy to be afraid of change, as long as it doesn't interfere with the_ actual_ change. It's okay to acknowledge that something is scary, as long as you don't allow that fear to control you."

"…"

"What is it?"

"I don't know."

"What are your concerns?"

"I think…it's remotely possible that I'm going to miss this place."

"..."

"That's stupid, right?"

"No, it's not stupid at all."

"..."

"What do you think you will specifically miss?"

"That's just it. I don't know."

"We talked about how this environment is good for you, because there's order and boundaries and other people are in control of the schedule."

"Yeah…it's not that."

"Perhaps you will miss some of the people here."

"Maybe."

"Alvie's grown rather attached to you."

"I'm sure he'll find someone his own age eventually, if he ever goes through puberty."

"He sat in the green chair in group this morning, and again in the afternoon."

"I noticed."

"He usually sits in the red."

"Red's more rebellious. Green's…more relaxed."

"That was my assessment also."

"Great minds think alike."

"He's making a lot of progress."

"His cycles are less extreme."

"He follows your lead."

"Yeah. I noticed that too."

"So do a lot of the other patients. They look to you to see how they should act, how actively they should participate in their own recovery."

"..."

"Alvie's been in and out of this hospital nine times in the last eight years, as well as several others. He was sixteen the first time he was committed. This is the first time he's really made any concerted effort to get better. He's taking his meds. He's taking part in therapy. He's finally considering a group home as a permanent residence, which is what we've been trying to get him to do since he first came here. He's even considering seeking employment."

"I doubt I had anything to do with that."

"I think you had _everything_ to do with that."

"..."

"He admires you."

"God knows why."

"You don't think there's anything about you worth admiring?"

"..."

"I think you're going to miss him."

"Some things, maybe. It will be nice to be able to sleep at night again…without some manic Hispanic trying to rap my ear off."

"Don't be surprised if you miss that too."

"Right."

"Remember what I said about what it means to _miss_ someone or something?"

"..."

"Will you be okay getting home?"

"Yeah."

"I realize that this might be an odd question. But you said you'd be taking the bus, alone. Are you sure you can handle that?"

"Assuming we steer clear of garbage trucks."

"You could ask James to come get you. I'm sure he'd be willing to make the trip."

"I kind of...want to do this on my own."

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Don't mistake my need to maintain a certain degree of independence for antisocial behavior."

"..."

"I have...reasons why I need to do this. And they're probably not what you think."

"Okay. You're right. I'm sorry. You're an adult. If you think you can do it, you can do it."

"..."

"Anything else you want to discuss?"

"Nope."

"Anything you _don't_ want to discuss?"

"Well there was this one thing related to me being discharged..._oh_, you almost got me."

"What you're feeling right now, you've felt this way before. Haven't you?"

"Yeah."

"You moved around alot as a child, had to sever a lot of relationships, leave a lot of people and places behind. I imagine that's contributed to your issues with abandonment."

"…"

"Was it hard to say _goodbye?"_

"Usually there wasn't anyone to say _goodbye_ to."

"But you can become attached to environments as well as people."

"..."

"So you didn't have _any_ friends."

"I had a couple. But no, not really."

"What kind of people did you socialize with?"

"..."

"You gravitated towards other eccentric, socially isolated people."

"Mostly."

"Were you ever particularly close to anyone?"

"I had a good friend in Okinawa. His name was Dieter Tsujino. No idea why his parents gave him a stereotypically German first name. But...that wasn't even the strangest thing about him."

"What was?"

"He was an albino. And he was addicted to porn."

"At such a young age?"

"He was two years older than I."

"Still pretty young to be addicted to porn."

"I guess. He was addicted to gambling too."

"Did you date anyone in high school?"

"Not really. Dieter paid a hooker twenty dollars to give me a lap dance and a blowjob for my fifteenth birthday."

"And how was that?"

"It's was...very brief."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"It was a blowjob."

"And?"

"Blowjobs are like pizza. Even if they're bad, they're still pretty good."

"When did you lose your actual virginity?"

"Why do you need to know that?"

"I don't. I'm just curious. You don't have to answer."

"I was nineteen and a sophomore in college."

"Who was she?"

"This girl in one of my classes…I think it was intro to psych, ironically."

"Great breeding ground for romance."

"Oh yeah."

"So…did you guys date or what?"

"No. We…met at this school function and ended up screwing in the back seat of her dad's Dodge, Dart. It was a seventy-three...gold with taupe interior. No idea why I remember that."

"What kind of school function?"

"It was some club thing. I only went because they were giving stuff away."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Just…food and key chains and bumper stickers."

"So you ended up having sex in her car."

"Yeah."

"Why _her_ car?"

"Because I didn't have one."

"Then what did you do with the bumper stickers?"

"Put them on my amp."

"Amp as in amplifier? For a musical instrument."

"Guitar...a Les Paul, God rest his _undeniably awesome_ soul."

"I thought you didn't believe in the afterlife."

"Tests to disprove the existence of it have so far been inconclusive. But I'm pretty sure if there's a heaven, Les Paul is in it."

"Why?"

"Someone has to provide the entertainment."

"And you wore a condom."

"Of course."

"Did you see her again after that?"

"I saw her around campus. And I saw her years later, in a grocery store with four kids. She looked miserable."

"Did you enjoy that experience?"

"Some."

"What didn't you enjoy about it?"

"I don't know…it was fast and awkward."

"It didn't last very long."

"Nope."

"Did you attend any dances in high school?"

"I went to prom my senior year, with the daughter of one of my dad's friends."

"He asked you to do this?"

"I actually liked her. I mean...I liked parts of her. She...didn't share my sentiments."

"Why not?"

"She was...of a different social circle."

"So _she_ was the one doing the favor."

"Pretty much."

"..."

"..."

"You seem sad, Greg. I'm concerned."

"I'm not. I just have a lot on my mind. That's normal, right?"

"That's normal. But what can I do to help?"

"Nothing."

"You've been taking all of your meds."

"Yes."

"..."

"What?"

"It's just...every time you come close to crying there's this expression of…sheer terror on your face. And then it's like you're trying to physically will your emotions back up into your head…or something. It looks very painful."

"…"

"I think it's probably much more painful than actually crying."

"..."

"I was perusing your chart and I noticed that nausea and abdominal cramping had been marked as a symptoms for the first three months of your stay. You didn't mention them at all after that point. Why?"

"Probably just residual from the detox."

"Are you sure? Some of the meds you're on can cause those symptoms."

"I'm fine. I mean, I've had a little dry mouth. Nothing I can't handle."

"The reason I mention it is because...I noticed that after you finally cried in my office, you stopped vomiting."

"..."

"Holding in your emotions was actually causing you to become sick."

"It wasn't like that."

"Wasn't like what?"

"It wasn't like I was…I have a tendency to throw up when I'm…in pain."

"Yeah, that was sort of my point."

"I wasn't...repressing anything."

"Weren't you?"

"..."

"The things we can repress are not always obvious and extreme. They can be very subtle. It can be as subtle as just…not having a choice about what to eat for dinner, family decisions being made without your input, your opinion not being valued or considered, or your complaints and concerns being dismissed as trivial. These little things build up over time and the person in question compensates by repressing their feelings. Because being constantly reminded that your feelings are unimportant, especially by those whose job it is to love and nurture you, is painful. You can take away that pain by choosing to feel nothing. The problem is…those feelings that aren't expressed haven't really disappeared. They're still in there somewhere."

"..."

"My point being that I'm proud of you for making that step...from repression to expression."

"Okay."

"Again with the face. Stop fighting it. If it moves you to hear that I'm proud, that's okay. If you let a few tears leak out over little things like this, you'll have an much easier time handling the big things."

"..."

"You formed an emotional connection with a place and the people in it and now you're going to be leaving it behind. It's _okay_ for that to affect you."

"..."

"I can see you're suffering greatly. So...topic change. Before you're discharged, I'd like to lower to Loxapine from twenty milligrams twice daily to ten milligrams twice daily. You said your pain levels were good. So I want to lower the methadone as well, to twenty-five milligrams, see how you do on that. I'm going to keep the Bupropion at three-hundred for now...see how long we can go without raising it."

"Sounds good."

"You don't have any questions about the changes of those dosages?"

"No."

"So...you're just trusting me to monitor your meds."

"Sure. You went to medical school, right?"

"Yes."

"..."

"But I'm glad. When you first came here, you accused me of trying to poison you in order alter your personality."

"..."

"You laugh _now_. I believe you were quite serious at the time."

"I know. That's...why it's funny."

"..."

"Okay, it's not really funny. It's pathetic."

"And you _are_ planning to come for follow-up appointments, correct?"

"Yeah."

"I thought Saturdays at between four and six would be a good time for us to meet."

"I...wasn't aware that you worked weekends."

"I'm not paid by the hour, Greg. I'm available whenever I'm needed. Going back to work will be hard enough for you. I figured you'd have less explaining to do, if your appointments weren't during the week."

"Thanks."

"We've got another forty minutes yet."

"Wonderful."

"So tell me about moving, as a child."

"What about it?"

"We never really talked about it. I think it's relevant to...whatever you're feeling right now. Might be good to get it out in the open."

"What do you want to know?"

"Walk me through it. Walk me through all the moves."

"I...wouldn't even know where to start."

"I noticed your file says you were born in Böblingen, Germany."

"Yeah."

"You obviously don't have an accent. So I'm assuming your father was stationed there. How long did you stay?"

"I don't know. I don't even remember it. I mean, we moved back there was I was sixteen, for about six months. But I don't remember being born there. I don't think I was even two when we left."

"Where did you go next?"

"Um...Florida, either Jacksonville or Pensacola. I don't have any pictures from those years. My parents didn't own a camera until I was about eight. The only pictures of me from before then came from friends of the family or school. My baby pictures were all taken by my mother's sister. And I don't even know where they are."

"Where did you go after that?"

"Well, I know that when I was four, we were living in Miramar, California. But I don't remember that really. I never went to kindergarten. We moved to some air base in South Korea when I was five and they started me in grade one instead."

"Why did they do that?"

"They decided since I already knew how to read and count and all that other stuff, there was no reason to make me wait."

"How did you learn to read so young?"

"My mom taught me."

"She read to you?"

"Yes."

"What was your favorite book?"

"I don't remember."

"Try."

"_Millions of Cats_."

"Ah...all of my children loved that book."

"Somewhere in my apartment I have an original 1928 printing. It's probably worth a bundle."

"So how long did you stay in South Korea?"

"Until I was halfway through second grade. I remember it being a huge ordeal to transfer my records to the next school I attended. Actually, that was always a huge ordeal. Most of the time, they got lost."

"What happened then?"

"Moved to Egypt. My dad was participating in some huge Air Force training exercise."

"I thought he was a Marine."

"He was. But he was also a pilot. So I assume he was a trainer and not a trainee. That's all I know about it. I even tried looking it up years later, and couldn't really find anything. My mom didn't know anything either. But that was the most nervous he ever seemed. He didn't want either of us leaving the base, talking to anyone who wasn't American. He was almost...paranoid."

"So you don't know what he was doing there?"

"Just that it was a training exercise and it involved the Air Force."

"Was his paranoia warranted?"

"I don't know. There was a curfew on base, not just for kids. There were a lot of restricted areas, even for military personnel. Everyone had to be indoors between ten and six and. I heard explosions in the distance a few times, heard some planes going overhead. But as far as I know, nothing ever happened where we were located."

"How long did you stay there?"

"Nine months maybe. We went back to the US, lived in Virginia for about a year. I think after we left there...that was when we stayed with my mom's parents."

"Where did your dad go?"

"Philippines."

"To do what?"

"No idea."

"Seems like you didn't really know what your dad was up to, most of the time."

"I assume a lot of it was top secret. But that kind of begs the question of why he'd want to drag a wife and kid around."

"You said you stayed with your grandparents for about nine months. Where did you go after that?"

"Let's see. That would have been sixty-nine to seventy. So fifth grade. I think we went to Yuma, Arizona."

"Another base?"

"Yeah. No...wait. We went to Oceanside, California and stayed there for about two months and then went to Arizona. Then we went back to Virginia. Then we went to Japan. Then we went back to Germany. Then we went to Texas. That's where we lived until I started college."

"Wasn't it difficult to live somewhere for only two months?"

"We actually just left our stuff behind and stayed with another family until it was time to go to Arizona."

"Were you able to take anything with you?"

"Just what I could carry on the plane. The rest had to be shipped."

"That must have been difficult, never being able to take anything with you."

"I got used to it. I didn't own a lot of stuff. Funny thing...when I was a kid, I never had more than one pair of shoes at a time. I wasn't...we didn't have a lot of money and it was one less thing to carry."

"Why is that funny?"

"Because...I kind of hoard them now."

"Shoes? How many pair do you have?"

"About forty."

"Any particular kind?"

"Jogging shoes, mostly."

"Are_ you_ a fan of irony?"

"Totally."

"Do you hoard anything else?"

"Books...kitchen appliances. Which is weird, because I don't even cook."

"I think it's good that you can see the connection between that behavior and that experience. Is this insight new or have you always been aware?"

"I never really thought about it until recently."

"It's not necessarily a bad thing."

"..."

"If it's not interfering with your ability to function, then it's not a bad thing. I don't see how owning forty pair of shoes could interfere with your ability to function."

"..."

"How often did your parents move, once you were no longer living with them?"

"I'm not really sure."

"You didn't notice?"

"I didn't really keep in touch with them. After he retired, they bought a house in Ohio. A few years later he sold it and bought the place in Concord."

"How often was your father home?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when you were a kid. What percentage of the time was he coming home from work in the evening and spending the night in his own bed?"

"Maybe...forty percent?"

"So you and mother didn't see a lot of him."

"As far as I'm concerned, we saw plenty."

"How long would he typically be gone?"

"Sometimes as little as three days. Longest was fifteen months."

"When was that?"

"Nineteen seventy...he was in Vietnam and we stayed in Arizona, in civilian housing."

"And you said he'd been gone nine months prior to that, when you stayed with your grandparents. How much space was there between those two absences?"

"Maybe...a month?"

"Did you notice a difference in your own behavior when he was gone?"

"Well, I wasn't walking on eggshells. I could actually...breathe. I could spill something or make a mistake, without having to worry about being hollered at."

"Did you get in trouble at all?"

"Sometimes. But...not with the same frequency as when he was home. My mom tended to overlook things that he wouldn't."

"Like what?"

"Like...pretty much everything."

"Did you mother ever have to discipline you?"

"Not...really. If I did anything really stupid, she would just wait and expect my dad to address it when he got back...even if it was going to be weeks before he was scheduled to return."

"So you'd wait hours, days, weeks or months knowing that your dad was going to come back and punish you for some specific misdeed?"

"Sometimes more than one."

"How was that, having to spend all that time contemplating your impending punishment?"

"This is going to sound odd. But I'm quite certain that by the age of seven, I had an ulcer."

"Doesn't sound odd at all. Children can have stress induced ulcers. Was your environment _that_ stressful?"

"Well, it was like you said."

"..."

"I had a tendency to hold things in."

"What about when you lived with your grandparents?"

"What about it?"

"Did either of your grandparents discipline you?"

"My grandmother was fairly low key. It was next to impossible to upset her. She tended to use food as...some kind of strange currency. If I did something stupid, she'd lecture me and then ask me to help her make cookies."

"Why do you think she did that?"

"My mother says it's because of the depression. She went years without eating any sweets. She used to bake constantly. She had jars of jams and jellies and tins of candy all over the place."

"Sort of like you and your shoes."

"Yeah."

"What about your grandfather?"

"What about him?"

"Did he ever discipline you?"

"Not really. He was a pacifist, for the most part. He hated violence. He wouldn't even watch violent sports on television. Only once did he ever appear genuinely angry with me, and I think he was more frustrated with the situation than anything else."

"What did you do?"

"I...tried to smoke."

"Tried?"

"I couldn't inhale without coughing."

"I see. How did he find this out?"

"My mother caught me and brought it to his attention."

"Do you think she was relying too heavily on him to help her parent you?"

"Yes. She ran to him with everything, same as she did with my father."

"So what did he do?"

"First he spent an hour telling me about my dad's dad and how he died of lung cancer, and all the terrible things that could happen to me if I smoked."

"Why do you think he did that?"

"He was stalling."

"Stalling. What exactly was he trying to postpone?"

"My mom...she wasn't too happy that her nine year old son had been smoking cigarettes. She asked her dad to take care of it."

"Take care of it how?"

"She wanted him to spank me, which was a pretty good indicator of how pissed she was. She never actually came right out and asked my dad to do that...at least not that I know of."

"She couldn't do it herself?"

"I guess not."

"Did she ever?"

"No. But it was clear that he didn't want to do it either. He spent like another ten minutes explaining that before he actually went through with it."

"How did that make you feel?"

"What?"

"That he felt the need to explain and took so much time to do it. I know you said your father used quite an opposite approach."

"Yeah. I don't know. I thought for sure it was going to be a joke, because he said he was going to be using his hand over my shorts. I thought...no way is _that_ going to hurt."

"But it did?"

"Yeah."

"How so?"

"I just figured I could pretend to cry and he'd be satisfied with a job well done. But he pinned my wrist to my back and held my legs in place with his own. He walloped me pretty good, and my reaction was far from fake."

"Did you ever smoke again?"

"Not until I was in college."

"Sounds like it worked then."

"..."

"Did he say anything to you about your reaction? I imagine you must have cried at some point."

"No. But I remember him saying that his hand was hurting because of it."

"Seems like that amuses you, why?"

"I don't know. It just does."

"Why do you think he went ahead and punished you, after explaining that he had absolutely no desire to do so?"

"My mother asked him to."

"Besides that. He could have told her _no_."

"He told me that he'd been caught doing the same thing when he was eleven. He said...the only way he could be sure that I wouldn't try it again was by leaving a _lasting impression_."

"It sounds like he did."

"Yeah."

"Was that all he said?"

"No. He also said _I'm not going to enjoy this. But it needs to be done. So don't make it any harder than it needs to be_. You would have thought he was the one who was going to be spanked."

"You don't seem as uncomfortable with this topic as you were when we were discussing your father. Why do you think that is?"

"Because he probably_ did_ enjoy it."

"You think your father enjoyed inflicting pain on you?"

"Hey, he was hardwired to."

"He was."

"But it wasn't his fault."

"I'm amazed that you can say that now."

"Me too. But it's true, you know? He was...trained to be a total bastard. It makes sense he'd be a lousy husband and father. You can't program someone to shoot first and ask questions later and then expect them to do so selectively."

"I think that you're displaying a great deal of maturity by acknowledging that fact."

"..."

"But the difference is, your grandfather knew that he'd be causing you some temporary pain. He was willing to verbally communicate his reasoning, his intentions and his regrets. Your father did none of those things."

"Yeah."

"What did your grandfather do afterwards?"

"He...cried and apologized some more."

"Really?"

"Yeah. And that wasn't awkward _at all_."

"Did he say anything?"

"He hugged me, told me he loved me, all that crap."

"And how was that?"

"I said...it was awkward."

"You weren't used to being reaffirmed or receiving physical affection after corporal punishment."

"..."

"Did he ever punish you like that again?"

"Nope."

"So you were well behaved from then on?"

"Not exactly. He just kind of...refused."

"Did he ever punish you some other way?"

"He'd give me chores to do. He grounded me to my room a few times. But his heart wasn't in it."

"Were you ever angry at him for punishing you?"

"I don't know...not really."

"Why not?"

"I just wasn't."

"Did you love him?"

"Yeah...sure."

"And why do you have such an easy time acknowledging that fact?"

"..."

"It took me about twenty tries to get you to admit you loved your father, your mother, your best friend and former girlfriend."

"It sound like you're looking for a specific answer. Why don't you just tell me what it is."

"Because he said it also. Because he said it first. When someone has already declared their love, there's no risk involved in admitting your own feelings."

"..."

"Bringing me back to why you're having such a hard time with the idea of leaving here."

"What does _that _have to do with anything?"

"..."

"You formed a bond with your grandfather because he set reasonable boundaries and maintained them, without needing to humiliate you in the process. Same reason you've formed a bond with this place."

"Like you haven't _humiliated_ me."

"When, Greg? _When_ were you humiliated?"

"..."

"Those trips to the quiet room were almost exclusively the result of your own behavior. Outside of the anxiety attack incident, you knew exactly what you were doing and you chose to do it anyway. I don't think anyone here has set out to intentionally humiliate you. Any other humiliation you've experienced has been your own fault."

"Yeah."

"Which is why you're apprehensive about leaving. You know that when you leave here, there _is_ no quiet room. There's no safe place where someone else will put you in order to stop you from making mistakes. No one will be standing by to repair any damage you do to yourself and others. There will be no automatically clean slate when you screw up, no point system to measure your progress. Because out there, people hold grudges and don't care why you do what you do. There's not going to be anyone there to tell you what you should and shouldn't be saying, or to stop you from saying it. And that uncertainty is what is terrifying you."

"This isn't really making me feel any better about leaving."

"You will be okay. We'll be seeing each other weekly. I'll expect you to bring up anything that's troubling you. You're human. So you will inevitably make some mistakes. I want to have the opportunity to help you not dwell on them or allow them to define you."

"..."

"Are you aware of the statistics regarding those who spend their entire life in prison? When they get out, they often feel completely lost. They crave the control, the order. They long to, and often _do_ succeed in finding a way to go back. Either that or they kill themselves."

"Did you just compare your hospital to a prison?"

"It's another atmosphere that is tightly controlled, in order to facilitate some sort of recovery."

"I'm not going to kill myself."

"But if you should change your mind about that, I want you to tell me."

"Sure."

"If you suddenly feel suicidal, call me immediately. If I'm not available, call someone else."

"Like who?"

"Like anyone...anyone here, James, Dr. Chase or his wife, one of your employees, or anyone you think might be willing to listen."

"That list is pretty short."

"It's longer than you think."

"..."

"Anything else you want to address?"

"I don't know. The whole _making amends_ thing is going to be kind of weird."

"I know you're not looking forward to it. But it's a necessary part of addiction recovery."

"..."

"What about it is troubling you?"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Just be genuine. Ask them if you've done anything to hurt them that was specifically the result of your addictions and if they say yes, acknowledge whatever it is and say you're sorry. Remember that how they choose to reply to that apology is up to them."

"..."

"You can't allow whether or not you're able to move on to be dependent on another party."

"Easier said than done."

"Start with the easiest first, those least likely to have an adverse reaction. Save the most difficult ones for last."

"..."

"Which do you think will be most difficult?"

"I don't know...my mom, Wilson?"

"It's good that you can recognize that."

"Yeah."

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"..."

"You look like you want to say something."

"Yeah."

"So?"

"It's...hard."

"Okay."

"..."

"What's hard about it?"

"I'm not good at this touchy feely stuff. You said it was important for me to communicate my feelings. I don't know..."

"Take your time."

"I just wanted to say...thank you."

"For?"

"Giving me a second chance, for not giving up on me even when I gave up on myself, for not...letting the fact that I was acting like a total dick to stop you from trying to help me."

"You made a valiant effort to push me away."

"I know. And you didn't have to keep trying. But you did."

"That's_ why_ I kept trying. That's how I knew you needed my help."

"..."

"The people who push the hardest, they're the ones who need the most help. James told me your father had died, that your fellow had killed himself. I knew you had a lot on your plate. I figured the ends would justify the means."

"I feel like I haven't dealt with any of it."

"You have. And you still need to deal with it some more. You still have a long way to go."

"Then why are you discharging me?"

"Because...what's important is that you know that now. You understand what your issues are and what needs to be addressed, and your willing to do it."

"..."

"And thank you as well, for working so hard, for trusting me, for not giving up on yourself. You don't know how much satisfaction I derive from knowing that you'll be leaving here in better shape than you were when you were admitted."

"..."

"There's that face again."

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"..."

"Just so you know, this is a bonus hug. It doesn't count."

"..."

"Kidding."


	12. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 10

_One-sided conversation between Nolan and House. House's replies, since we can't hear them, are represented with dots. I did this once before with Chase and House and people liked it. So I figured what the hell._

_Sometimes all people need to hear is that they matter._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"Greg?"

"…"

"No…it's perfectly okay that you called me."

"…"

"Yes, it is. That's precisely why I gave you the number."

"…"

"No, she wasn't. I've taken calls at home before."

"…"

"You're obviously distressed. She was probably just concerned."

"..."

"Well...you sound distressed."

"…"

"Why don't you tell me what happened first, and then we'll decide if you fit the dictionary definition of _distressed_."

"…"

"Uh huh."

"…"

"That's...good, right?"

"..."

"I told you, you're not responsible for the way people choose to respond to your apologies."

"…"

"No, he didn't _have_ to say that. But it sounds like you must have known it was a possibility."

"…"

"Maybe he believes he has good reason to be suspicious. You said you've lied to him before."

"..."

"It doesn't have to be directly. You faked cancer, pretended to cough up blood, sabotaged his job interview. Over the years, you've played countless practical jokes. Therefore, as far as he's concerned, it's not outside the realm of possibility that you might be insincere."

"…"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"..."

"You know better than that."

"…"

"I'm sure it does. I can't imagine how you must be feeling."

"..."

"Because I'm not you, and you're not telling me."

"…"

"But you recovery is not dependent on Dr. Foreman's acceptance of your apology, or anyone else's."

"..."

"You said you were sorry and accepted responsibility for your actions. That's all you can do. That's all that's under your control. You can't _make_ anyone forgive you."

"…"

"Well that was kind of uncalled for. Wasn't it?"

"…"

"I'm sure you were. But that probably didn't help matters any. I find it hard to believe that you didn't realize what effect that might have."

"…"

"But he's not me."

"..."

"We're different people. Just because we're both black doesn't mean we'll be offended by the same things. He's obviously way more sensitive to cultural stereotypes than I am. He's probably more sensitive to stereotypes in general."

"…"

"You and I do. But he…apparently doesn't have the luxury of knowing you well enough to realize when you're just deflecting."

"..."

"That doesn't mean anything. You can work with someone for years and never really _know_ them."

"..."

"I'm sorry to hear that.

"..."

"And that was very hurtful and unnecessary."

"..."

"Why do you think he may have said that?"

"..."

"Did you ask?"

"..."

"Why not?"

"..."

"This may seem like a stupid question, but has he ever seen you happy before? Have _any_ of them?"

"..."

"_Genuinely_ happy?"

"..."

"But that doesn't mean they should assume that you're high, on heroin no less. You had every right to be offended."

"..."

"Perhaps they were kidding."

"..."

"Why do you think they'd make that assumption?"

"..."

"But they don't know that. They have no idea what you've been through. They have no way of knowing unless you tell them."

"..."

"I didn't say you _had_ to tell them. I was just making a point."

"…"

"I'm sure he wasn't laughing _at_ you."

"…"

"I'm doubt that she was either."

"…"

"People cry, Greg. Human beings cry. Every single one of us, whether we like it or not. No one is exempt from this."

"…"

"Well if they didn't know before, they do now."

"…"

"I know that seems like it could be a terrible thing. But really, it's not that bad."

"..."

"I'm sure he doesn't. He was probably just surprised."

"…"

"Why do _you_ think he'd be surprised?"

"..."

"With whom did you decide to speak first?"

"…"

"And how did that go?"

"…"

"Good."

"..."

"Sounds like it was fairly productive, positive even. Why can't you just focus on that? Why focus on_ this_ instead?"

"..."

"So if you placed Dr. Foreman towards the end of the list, I imagine you must have suspected he might react adversely to the apology."

"…"

"No. I know you're discouraged. But it's no reason to stop trying."

"..."

"You can't let this stop you from talking to James or your mother."

"..."

"Because they have nothing to do with one another."

"…"

"Don't do anything hasty. Don't do anything _at all_."

"..."

"Just…tell me what you're feeling."

"…"

"Sure you can."

"…"

"And that's okay, Greg. It's okay to _not_ know."

"..."

"But you have to at least make an effort to figure it out."

"..."

"You know why."

"…"

"Yes, it is."

"…"

"It's doesn't matter what he thinks of you."

"…"

"It doesn't matter what I think either. What matters is what_ you_ think."

"…"

"You don't need his approval or his permission."

"…"

"But that's in essence what you're suggesting."

"..."

"Who is he in your life? No one. If he wants to have that much power over you, he should have to earn it."

"..."

"It sounds almost like you're describing your father. Are you sure you're not projecting?"

"..."

"Mmm hmm. What else do they have in common?"

"..."

"The same could be said of most people, Greg."

"..."

"Because you're subconsciously hoping to make a connection between them."

"..."

"That's why I said _subconsciously_."

"..."

"That doesn't matter."

"…"

"And that's okay too. Remember that I said it was okay to become attached to people, even if the feeling wasn't completely mutual. It doesn't necessarily mean anything about you."

"…"

"I think you're looking for an excuse to feel bad. You're looking for evidence to reaffirm your delusion that you're a terrible person."

"..."

"Because then you _deserve_ to be treated like crap."

"..."

"Stop trying to _make_ it make sense. It doesn't and it won't."

"..."

"What would you call it?"

"..."

"Compared to what?"

"..."

"Right. And I guess they're all applying for sainthood?"

"..."

"They must be, if they're as perfect as they claim."

"..."

"Seems like that's what you're implying, though."

"..."

"What are you doing right now? Where are you?"

"…"

"Are you alone?"

"…"

"Did they all go home?"

"..."

"I'm sure they're not."

"..."

"Do they normally get together after work?"

"..."

"Well obviously _they_ do, if they're sharing an apartment."

"..."

"Why do you assume such things?"

"..."

"You think they're all sitting around, mocking you?"

"..."

"Perhaps they've started a club."

"..."

"Did you drive yourself to work today?"

"…"

"What are you thinking of doing _right now_?"

"…"

"You want to meet somewhere?"

"…"

"No. But it might help you to have some company."

"…"

"It's not a problem."

"..."

"If it were a problem, I wouldn't have offered."

"..."

"Or we can keep talking on the phone, if that's easier for you."

"…"

"What about James?"

"…"

"Try talking to him. You're hurting and you need to learn how to share that with someone besides me."

"..."

"_Distant_ in what sense?"

"..."

"I don't know if I'd classify that as distant. Perhaps he's just being cautious."

"..."

"You know that he's waiting for you to take the first step."

"..."

_"Any_ step. At this point, pretty much anything would qualify as a step."

"…"

"Because he's every bit as terrified as you are...probably more so."

"…"

"Then tell him that. Tell him what you're feeling. Tell him exactly what you just told me."

"..."

"Why not?"

"..."

"It _is_ the same."

"..."

"Feelings aren't rational, Greg. We talked about this. When you find yourself becoming frustrated and completely ignoring logic, that's the sure sign that someone or something is important to you. That's how you know that they matter."

"…"

"Didn't we already spend several hours defining _important_?"

"..."

"Then employ any one of these choice phrases: _I'm scared that I might be screwing this up. You're very important to me. I have no idea what I'm doing_._ Please tell me we can figure this out together."_

"…"

"No, he wouldn't."

"…"

"I just know."

"…"

"Because you haven't even tried."

"..."

"How?"

"..."

"And you really think _that_ qualifies as trying?"

"..."

"You want some kind of guarantee? We've had this conversation. There's no objective measurement for your value as a human being."

"…"

"If you want me to come, I'll come. But I honestly think you can handle this without me."

"…"

"I'm not going to do the work for you. If you want that, you need to tell him yourself."

"..."

"You can't go through life with someone constantly there to arbitrate your every conversation."

"..."

"Yes, it _would_ be nice...and expensive."

"..."

"That's a risk you have to take."

"..."

"There's risk in everything, Greg. Life itself is one big risk."

"..."

"Don't worry about that. Don't obsess about all the things that can go wrong or that have gone wrong."

"..."

"Because no amount of obsessing will change the outcome."

"..."

"It _is_ easier said than done. But you still need to do it. Results aren't going to be immediate."

"..."

"You talked about this in your twelve steps group. You need to condition yourself to not worry about things you can't control."

"..."

"No...it isn't."

"..."

"Because he's a human being also."

"..."

"Well if you're exempt, then so is Dr. Foreman."

"..."

"Then tell him that. Say _I am doing this for myself. Whether you want to believe it or not, I am sorry for whatever I may have done to insult or injure you. I'm saying I'm sorry so we can both move on_._ If you choose to hold a grudge, that's up to you_."

"..."

"I doubt it. I have rarely heard of anyone reacting violently to such a statement."

"..."

"Well if you say it like _that_, he'll probably take a swing at you."

"..."

"No. Don't say anything else. That's where you get into trouble, remember? Just say _that_ and walk away."

"..."

"Try not to think of it that way."

"..."

"It doesn't matter. Tell him that. Tell him that his reaction doesn't matter and won't keep you from getting closure. Tell him that the degree of your sincerity isn't determined by whether or not he believes you."

"..."

"Because then you're taking away his control over your feelings."

"..."

"Again, it doesn't matter. Let him get angry. If he wants to waste his energy on that, that's on him."

"..."

"No, you're not."

"..."

"You're going to quit your job over this? You're not twelve years old, Greg. This isn't junior high. You can't just...run away whenever you want to avoid confrontation."

"..."

"I think you're scared. And that's okay."

"..."

"No...because three of your colleagues saw you in an emotionally vulnerable state. You're terrified. Now they know for sure that you're an ordinary human being, just like them. You're afraid you've lost any sort of leverage you might have over them, that they'll never take you seriously as a physician again."

"..."

"But you don't know that. For all you know, they might take you _more_ seriously."

"..."

"And that will take time."

"..."

"And they will see that,_ over time_."

"..."

"If he really believed that he'd have found alternative employment. He was gone for eight weeks and hasn't made any effort to leave since. He either likes his job or he really enjoys being miserable."

"..."

"He could find a job elsewhere, with or without a letter of recommendation."

"..."

"He's had other jobs prior to working for you. There are other doctors who could vouch for him."

"..."

"_With_ you then."

"..."

"And what if he does? What then?"

"..."

"Because you obviously care what he thinks."

"..."

"Why _do_ you care what he thinks?"

"..."

"I told you we should have talked about this. We can talk about when we see each other next."

"..."

"Did it occur to you to _ask_ for an apology?"

"..."

"No, you shouldn't have to. But a lot of the time, people are completely unaware of when they've hurt someone. They have to be told. Surely you can appreciate that."

"..."

"What will matter is that you asked. Then...at the very least, he'll be aware."

"..."

"It doesn't matter if he cares. What matters is that he knows."

"..."

"Then that's his choice. Again, you're not responsible for his reaction."

"..."

"That's true. But he'd be making himself just as miserable in the process."

"..."

"Well then, it sounds like he's already miserable."

"..."

"He's a neurologist. I'm pretty sure he knows exactly what she has to look forward to."

"..."

"If he wants to marry a dying woman, that's his business."

"..."

"Why do you care?"

"..."

"Sounds like you do."

"..."

"I agree. It's very interesting. But is it really relevant to you?"

"..."

"Why are you so fascinated with other people's lives?"

"..."

"I'm a psychiatrist."

"..."

"I asked you first."

"..."

"And that's the _what_. I'm asking about the _why_."

"..."

"And couldn't you learn the same thing by just talking to them?"

"..."

"Do you think you're fooling anyone?"

"..."

"Fine. You can pretend that means you don't care, if it makes you feel better."

"..."

"But it_ is_ about making you feel better. That's why we rationalize, to make ourselves feel better."

"..."

"No, you're not."

"..."

"I'm _not_ telling you what to do. I'm telling you what I think you shouldn't do."

"..."

"Do you _really_ want to throw away your sobriety over this? You really want to give Dr. Foreman that kind of power over your life?"

"..."

"But you do. This _is_ under your control. You are an adult. Whether or not you choose to drink right now, is completely up to you."

"..."

"But you can choose to do the right thing."

"..."

"Yes, it is."

"..."

"_I_ say it is."

"..."

"See, this is where it usually comes in handy to believe in some sort of god."

"..."

"Then you need to figure out the source of your strength and draw from that."

"..."

"Sure you do. Everyone does."

"..."

"So use logic. You know what will happen to your body if you ingest alcohol. Do you really want to put yourself through that? If you're not suffering now, you definitely will be."

"..."

"Okay then."

"..."

"And I'm proud of you for recognizing that."

"..."

"That's not a solution either."

"..."

"That...is a very bad idea and you know it."

"..."

"And you'll be suffering if you do that too."

"..."

"Greg..."

"..."

"Well, I _am_ frustrated."

"..."

"I didn't say that _you_ were frustrating. I said I was frustrated. It's not the same thing."

"..."

"Do you think that_ I_ think you're annoying?"

"..."

"Yes, that's why I gave you my home number."

"..."

"And you really think that's what I meant?"

"..."

"Guess again."

"..."

"No, I'm serious. Try again."

"..."

"I would have thought that was obvious."

"..."

"Feelings are not rational."

"..."

"That's true. I shouldn't. But just because I want to be objective, doesn't mean I will always succeed."

"..."

"You...make me completely ignore logic."

"..."

"Which is very frustrating, because I can't do anything about it."

"..."

"Why the hell do you think?"

"..."

"Because you're important, Greg. You matter."

"..."

"Hello?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"..."

"Uh huh."

"..."

"Okay."

"..."

"You're sure."

"..."

"That sounds like a much better idea."

"..."

"You're doing the right thing."

"..."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it."

"..."

"See you Saturday at four, then."

"..."

"Goodnight."


	13. Fallacies

_Conversation between Foreman/Thirteen in which they discuss logic and House_

* * *

**Fallacies**

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You're not eating."

"I'm eating."

"You've taken two bites."

"I guess I'm just not that hungry."

"Did I use too much sherry?"

"No."

"Then why aren't you eating?"

"The tetrabenazine messes with my appetite...which you should know, since you prescribed it."

"Is that new?"

"As new as me taking the meds."

"I know you skipped lunch today. You need to try to eat something."

"Eric, let it go. I'm fine."

"Right...so I should interpret that scathing glare on your face as you being_ fine_."

"You're imagining things."

"This is about House, isn't it?"

"Yes, House is the reason I'm not wolfing down my bamboo shoots and water chestnuts. He's trying to help me get ready for bikini season."

"Thoughtful of him."

"..."

"Just say what you want to say."

"Why do you assume I _want_ to say anything?"

"Because I know you."

"Okay. I think...you should apologize."

"To House?"

"..."

"Tell me you're joking."

"..."

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"House came to us and practically bared his soul, and you rolled your eyes and accused him of manufacturing his joy with..._heroin_."

"Yeah, and then he cracked a distasteful joke about my brother."

"But it wasn't his usual, callous sense of humor. It was an emotional response. He was obviously reacting to what you said."

"It wasn't a ridiculous conclusion to draw. I'm sure he's done heroin before. An opiate is an opiate. Drugs are drugs."

"You're assuming that, based on the fact that he was addicted to alcohol and chronic pain medication?"

"_Is_ addicted and yeah, I am."

"He's clean. Wilson said he willingly submitted to a blood test."

"Wilson has been known to lie and just because you get clean, doesn't mean you'll stay that way."

"Retrospective determism? Just because House _can_ fall off the wagon, that means he will? That's a logical fallacy."

"No...I'm saying that it _probably_ will happen. And logic is about probability."

"You stole a car once. Does that mean the next time something goes missing, we get to blame you?"

"Now _that's _a logical fallacy."

"So it's okay for you to draw conclusions about him, but I can't draw conclusions about you?"

"I'm not drawing conclusions. I'm stating a fact."

"So am I."

"..."

"There was no visible evidence of IV drug use."

"That you could see."

"He was wearing short sleeves."

"Are you kidding me? I thought you were more street savvy than that."

"Yes...that's the best way to wound me, insult my knowledge of illegal narcotics."

"There are other veins. Junkies know a million ways to hide those things, and House is way smarter than the average drug addict."

"Right...because he's always gone to so much trouble to conceal the evidence of his vices. That's why he never swallowed any pills in front of us or left any empty liquor bottles in the trash can under his desk."

"You realize you're talking about a man who faked cancer and waited a year to open a Christmas gift, just so he could screw with his employees. He's completely devoted to his misanthropy."

"Now _that's _a fallacy of relevance."

"Trust me. This is just another one of his games."

"He says it's not."

"And you believe him?"

"He has no reason to lie."

"He's been like this for so long, he doesn't even know when he's being ingenuine. He probably can't even tell the difference."

"How can you be so sure that's what this is? How can you be so sure that _you_ know when he's being genuine?"

"...."

"He _quit_."

"I know. I was standing three feet away when he said it."

"Meaning he's leaving...meaning there's no payoff. Even if he were just telling us this to screw with us, it would be pointless. He wouldn't be around to enjoy it."

"He hired a private investigator and made copies of all of our house keys. You don't think he has other ways of finding out things?"

"_And _you waited all of ninety seconds before trying to jockey for his position."

"You knew that I was already considering asking if I could take over the department."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't have given Cuddy a few more minutes to...organize her thoughts."

"I didn't see any point in waiting to address it."

"But he walked away from the perfect job, a job that was created_ just_ for him."

"So?"

"He knew that you wanted his position and he didn't even bother to fight you for it."

"So?"

"And I can't imagine he's going to have an easy time getting hired anywhere else."

"Again, _so?"_

"For whatever reason, he's convinced that leaving would improve the quality of his life. He even said so. It was obviously worth it to him to sacrifice potential employment, to get...whatever it is he thinks he can gain by quitting."

"He's not gaining anything. This is just another one of his twisted schemes."

"You're saying it's impossible that he's sincere?"

"Not impossible, just highly unlikely."

"So even though it is possible, you refuse to acknowledge it. That's a suppressed correlative."

"No, it's not. I'm not _redefining_ anything."

"No, you're just ignoring it."

"..."

"Well, have fun obsessing over that. Don't forget your whiteboard and markers and oversized tennis ball."

"Right. I'm just like him."

"Hey, you said it. I didn't."

"You really think I'm _anything_ like him?"

"I...really think that you should probably consider why it is that you're so _terrified_ of being anything like him."

"You seriously don't think this is a scam?"

"No, I don't."

"You don't know him as well as I do."

"He doesn't seem to think _you_ know him at all."

"Right. The last six years I spent working with him were all just a horrible nightmare. _Actually_..."

"And during those six years, how many times did you actually get together, outside of this hospital?"

"None."

"If someone had asked either of us whether or not we thought Kutner would ever kill himself, what do you think we would have said?"

"We'd have said _no_. Anyone would. Even his parents would have said _no_."

"And we never got together with _him _either. How well did we really know him?"

"It's not the same thing...and that's another fallacy. Just because Kutner killed himself, doesn't mean that House would. They're different people."

"But people can change, Eric. People can be more than the sum of their actions and words."

"Kutner didn't change. He was the same person he'd always been. We just didn't see it."

"Maybe we didn't want to see it. Maybe we weren't even trying."

"Yeah, it's our fault Kutner is dead."

"That's not what I said."

"But that's what you meant. And God forbid, if House should kill himself, that will be our fault too. Slippery slope."

"Wow."

"What?"

"I can't believe it. He was right."

"About what?"

"About you. He said you would never see him differently. But it's worse than that. It's like you don't even see him as a real person."

"I get that he had some amazing life changing experience. Good for him. But it's temporary. Everything is temporary. In a few weeks or months, the honeymoon will be over. He'll come crawling back here, asking for his job."

"But you don't_ know_ that."

"Four years ago, I was searching a patient's home for toxins and ended up with an infection. The infection spread to my brain. I was certain that either the infection would kill me, or the treatment would. But miraculously, I survived. When I came back to work, I told everyone how grateful I was to have the chance to go on living. House mocked me and threw it in my face."

"Well by all means, you should do the same. That'll prove you're the better man."

"Who's side are you on?"

"The side of truth, Eric. The side of_ reality_."

"You don't even know what that is."

"And you do? I'm just saying...you claim to be all about logic and reasoning. Look at this critically."

"I _am_."

"No, you're not. You're looking at it emotionally."

"..."

"He...apologized to me for pushing me to get tested for Huntington's. He apologized to Taub for digging up information about his wife. He apologized to Chase for...punching him and for what happened at the bachelor party. Wilson said he wrote a letter and sent it to Kutner's parents. And _that's_ just the stuff I know about."

"So?"

"So...he's clearly capable of discerning right from wrong. He's capable of seeing when he's hurt someone. He's capable of making amends."

"Right. He just usually chooses not to."

"But he _is_ choosing to."

"Just because he apologized, doesn't mean he _meant_ it."

"Who _cares _if he meant it?"

"You don't? What the hell is the point of apologizing to someone if you don't actually mean it? How is that even an apology?"

"Because...it's the gesture that counts. That he bothered is what counts. If you tip your waitress, even if she didn't do a good job, the money you gave her is still real. It has the same value. She can still _spend _it."

"Approaching the three of us at once...was manipulative."

"Chase said House approached he and Cameron together."

"So?"

"So, he didn't have a problem with it and neither did she. It's only manipulative if you allow it to dictate how you feel."

"He's not _dictating_ anything."

"No one can manipulate you, unless you value their opinion."

"I don't give a crap what he thinks."

"Fine. Assuming that's true, which we both know it's not, he apparently gives a crap what you think. You obviously hurt his feelings...whatever that means for him. How hard is it to say _I'm sorry_, even if you don't mean it?"

"I didn't _hurt his feelings_."

"So I guess those tears were fake then. Wow, you're right. Those are some mad, manipulative skills he has there."

"He wasn't _crying_."

"More faulty logic. Just because you've never seen him do it before, doesn't mean he can't. Think about all the stuff he's been through, just in the last two years. I don't care who you are. You can only hold that in for so long."

"..."

"You were wrong, Eric. Yes, it sucks. Your ego will suffer tremendously. But there's no way any of us could have predicted this _massive_ personality change. Obviously...something happened that made House want to _reinvent_ himself. But that's not a crime. It's not up to us to say what's real and what's not."

"..."

"If you want to prove that you're a better man than he is, you could start by just…being a better man."

"Ouch."

"..."

"..."

"And now you're pissed at me."

"I'm not pissed."

"Right."

"You're entitled to your opinion. Doesn't mean I have to agree with it."

"Which is exactly why I didn't want to have this conversation."

"You can't handle me disagreeing with you?"

"I think you can't handle _me_ disagreeing with _you_."

"..."

"We're not always going to see eye to eye on every issue."

"I know that."

"..."

"You know if I apologize, he's never going to let me live it down."

"Then you're not doing it for the right reason."

"..."

"That's not why people apologize. You'd be doing it to make him feel better, not to make you feel better."

"How do you know it will even matter?"

"I don't. But neither do you, unless you actually do it."

"..."

"What will you have lost if you say you're sorry?"

"It's not about loss."

"..."

"If I promise to apologize to House, will you eat your Mushu pork?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"..."

"Appeal to emotion?"

"Red herring fallacy.

"Now_ that_ was manipulative."

"And this is delicious."


	14. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 11

_If House sounds a little emo and OOC at first, there's a reason. He's sketching because he took a few too many antidepressants. _

_I have no idea where I'm going with this._

**

* * *

**

Another Sixty Minutes

"Oh Christ. Not you."

"What happened?"

"..."

"You didn't think I'd show up here?"

"False alarm. Nothing happened. Everything's fine. Go home."

"_Nothing_ doesn't usually result in someone being a patient in the ICU."

"This is just a formality."

"And the restraints?"

"The nurse is kinky. She's totally into me. The IV is for show."

"I see."

"..."

"You know I'm just going to keep asking, right?"

"..."

"So, what happened?"

"_I_ happened."

"You think there's something wrong with who you are?"

"_Reality_ thinks there's something wrong with who I am."

"There's nothing wrong with who you are, Greg."

"You say that a lot. But...you know, I'm starting to think you're full of crap."

"Even if every person you meet says there's something wrong with you…there's not."

"..."

"You want to be able to explain people's cruelty and indifference. You want it to make sense. You can't and it won't."

"…"

"They hate me. You know that, right?"

"Who?"

"Everyone."

"_I_ don't hate you."

"Fine...everyone but you."

"You think that _everyone_ but me hates you?"

"You don't get it. They _all_ hate me. Everyone hates me. They don't even know why they hate me. My own father hated me. My best friend hates me. That orderly over there hates me. He hasn't met me yet. But if he ever does, he'll hate me."

"I...can't speak for the orderly. But James doesn't hate you and I seriously doubt your father did either."

"Really? _How_ am I supposed to know that for sure?"

"You _can't_ know for sure."

"Then who the hell cares? Who the hell cares about something if there's no proof? How is it even real, if we can't prove it?"

"I care and it _is _real."

"..."

"Tell me what you're feeling."

"Don't. Don't do your thing. Not here and not now."

"Don't what, do my job?"

"You're off the clock, doc."

"You really believe that? You really believe that I can schedule where and when I'm going to care about something?"

"Don't do this. Just...stop."

"You need to talk about this."

"Later...Saturday"

"Why later?"

"..."

"Why is Saturday better than now?"

"I'm in a...state. I can't control what I'm going to say, not like this."

"All the more reason why we should talk."

"Who the hell called you anyway?"

"Who do you think?"

"Just...make it stop."

"Make _what_ stop?"

"..."

"What's going on?"

"These...thoughts. They're wrong. They seem right. But they're not. This is like...God...I can't make it stop."

"I think that you know you're delusional is a good sign."

"I don't want to feel this. I don't want to feel anything."

"That's part the problem."

"Well, it's my problem. It's not yours."

"It's my problem _now_."

"Go away. Just go away and leave me alone."

"Like everyone else? You want me to confirm your suspicion that abandonment is inevitable? No. I don't think so."

"But you're pissed off, right? You're pissed that I'm reckless. Even after all your hard work, I'm still the same screwed up person I always was. Trust me, eventually you'll get tired of this. Eventually, everyone gets tired of it."

"Do I looked pissed off?"

"Yes."

"Look at my face. Do I looked pissed off?"

"..."

"Greg, sit still for a second and actually_ look_ at me. Do I look pissed?"

"..."

"Have I gotten tired of _it_ so far?"

"No."

"Okay then."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself. So...you can go now."

"I know that."

"Then why are you even here?"

"Because you're my patient and you're not well."

"..."

"I don't just care if you live or die. I care about the quality of your life."

"Then make yourself useful and tell my attending I'm not suicidal. He seems to be unaware."

"I'm waiting for him to answer my page. I will fill him in on your situation."

"Can you take these off?"

"No."

"You just said…"

"You're agitated and you're not thinking straight. I'd feel better for now, if you kept the restraints."

"This is degrading."

"I agree. It's very unfortunate, but necessary."

"It's _not_ necessary."

"It's less degrading than a coffin."

"..."

"Which do you think I'd rather you be in?"

"I'm not going to _die_."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't have a psychotic break, injure yourself or someone else."

"Right. Twenty-four hundred milligrams of generic Wellbutrin is the recipe for insanity. Anyone have a chainsaw? I've got a score to settle with some guy in accounting."

"The nurses said you were manic and hypervigilant, less than five minutes before I got here. They put you in these for a reason."

"They're lying."

"Because they hate you. Of course."

"..."

"I'm going to stay with you. Okay? I promise, I won't leave you alone."

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do."

"_Don't_."

"Do."

"I don't want you here. If you're not going to take off the restraints, you're useless to me. Go."

"I'm not going to take off the restraints. But I will stay."

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me."

"No. But you do need me to care. And I do. That's why I'm staying."

"I can't stop shaking."

"It's the drugs."

"I know that. Don't you think I know that? I'm not a fucking idiot."

"The irritability is a symptom. But it's not an excuse to be nasty."

"..."

"Is it?"

"No."

"Greg, relax."

"God...my _hands_…"

"In a few more hours, you will feel better."

"I can't stop shaking. Why don't they just knock me out?"

"You know they can't do that. The drugs will clear your system eventually and you _will_ feel better. IV fluids should speed the process along."

"How's that for irony?"

"You were trying to feel better. I know."

"…"

"You think I don't know why you took too many pills? You're not the first person to try to _get happy_ by overdosing on antidepressants."

"I wasn't trying to _overdose_."

"I realize that. You took eight pills instead of one, just enough to cause an adverse reaction…not enough to warrant pumping your stomach."

"Lucky me."

"It makes sense that you'd head to pills first, to solve your problems, instead of just talking to someone."

"Yeah, that's right. Kick sand in the addict's face."

"I'm merely stating a fact. You have a history of this, therefore it's not surprising. It's comfortable. It's a habit. And we need to help you break it."

"By what, smacking my nose with a newspaper? No thanks."

"We always go back to what's comfortable. When I say_ we_, I mean everyone...not just you."

"Yeah? What's your crutch?"

"..."

"Not gonna tell me, huh? Just another well meaning hypo..."

"Patients."

"What?"

"_Patients_. I have a tendency to become too personally involved with resistant patients and to perceive their unwillingness to get better as some sort of failure on my part."

"No kidding. I hadn't noticed."

"Your amateur diagnosis of a narcissistic personality disorder wasn't too far off the mark. I suffer from the misconception that I can save everyone from themselves."

"It's not your fault that I did this."

"I know that...intellectually. Remember what I said about the difference between thinking and feeling?"

"Fuck..."

"Flatten out your hands and try to relax."

"Can't."

"You're making it worse by clenching your fists. Just try to relax your muscles."

"_Can't_."

"You're going to strain something. You want another blanket?"

"I'm not cold."

"Squeeze my hand."

"That's not going to help. I'm not..._five_."

"Why don't you try it before you decide it's not going to work."

"..."

"When's the last time someone held your hand?"

"…"

"You can't even remember."

"I _can_ remember."

"Then, when was it?"

"..."

"Was it recent?"

"Yes."

"When was it?"

"..."

"You're not going to tell me now?"

"It's stupid."

"I doubt it."

"It was last month."

"..."

"Alvie was...his grandmother's dying."

"Of diabetes related kidney failure, yes. He's mentioned that in group."

"And...he's Catholic."

"So?"

"..."

"You prayed with him."

"..."

"I thought you didn't believe in God."

"I don't know what the hell I believe."

"Why did you do it?"

"I'd rather not say."

"It's embarrassing?"

"No."

"Then that just leaves shame."

"..."

"I'm right, right? What reason could you possibly have to be ashamed of doing something kind?"

"He asked me. I said _no_. Actually, I mocked him for several minutes and _then_ said no."

"And you changed your mind, why?"

"He bribed me with cigarettes."

"Why does that bother you so much? He wanted something and you wanted something."

"He probably could have gotten someone else to do it for free."

"Why would you assume that?"

"..."

"It bothers you that he'd prefer you to someone else. The idea of being preferred bothers you. And you can't trust it. So you have to pretend you're just in it for the nicotine fix. That way if he's full of crap, you have a out."

"..."

"_Did_ you actually pray with him?"

"..."

"That was very nice of you."

"I already told you..."

"That you did it for cigarettes. But you still did it."

"..."

"You made a choice. You're not religious. You're at the most agnostic. But you voluntarily stepped out of your comfort zone, to benefit someone else."

"And myself at the same time."

"You think that diminishes the value of the gesture?"

"..."

"How many people at Mayfield do you think would be willing to do that for Alvie, staff not included?"

"I don't know."

"You realize you've exhibited more patience with him than any other roommate he's ever had...and he's gone through dozens. Generally people request a new room within days of being assigned to him."

"Why...because he likes to talk?"

"Some people find him to be distracting."

"It's not a crime to be annoying...yet."

"But you _needed_ to be distracted, didn't you?"

"..."

"Touch is important, Greg. A simple act of holding someone's hand can mean nothing to one person, and the entire world to another."

"It didn't mean anything."

"He seemed to think it did."

"He_ told_ you?"

"..."

"And you let me think you didn't know?"

"I didn't _let_ you think anything. I asked when was the last time someone held your hand. I had no reason to assume that was it."

"Tell you what...I'll let you hold my hand if you take off these restraints."

"Nice try."

"I can't…stand this. I feel trapped."

"You are trapped. But you're also safe."

"I don't feel safe...I feel _paranoid_."

"That's the drugs. You know that."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

"Probably another three or four hours and this will be over."

"Great. Somebody crank up the directors cut of Lord of The Rings."

"You want me to get a DVD player in here?"

"I was joking."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think I should watch...anything right now."

"You're not hallucinating, are you?"

"No. But that doesn't mean I couldn't."

"Was the television a trigger before?"

"Television, radio, telephone, computer...anything with noise or moving images."

"That's not uncommon."

"..."

"Well...look on the bright side. Even with the cuffs, you can still flip people off."

"..."

"What?"

"Are you enabling my antisocial tendencies?"

"I'm enabling you to laugh."

"For two seconds."

"I know a couple of knock-knock jokes."

"This sucks."

"Why don't we talk about why you did it."

"I thought you said you knew."

"I know why you did it. But I don't know what prompted that particular decision."

"That's what _why_ means."

"..."

"There was nothing. I just...made a mistake. Lost count."

"You lost count. You forgot that your dose was one pill and accidentally took eight?"

"Old habits die hard."

"I guess they do."

"..."

"So I shouldn't assume the conversation we had on the phone on Wednesday night was relevant to your decision to...miscount your pills?"

"..."　

"You're lucky they brought you here instead of St. Sebastian's."

"Wilson brought me in, remember?"

"How do you think your new employer would feel about you overdosing on psych meds?"

"They know what I'm on."

"They also know how much you're _supposed_ to be taking."

"It doesn't matter."

"I think it does."

"I just mean, it doesn't matter because I'm not planning on working for them anymore."

"You're coming back here?"

"No."

"Where are you planning to work?"

"I'm not."

"You've got some sort of savings to live off of?"

"I'm moving in with my mother."

"And she's okay with that."

"..."

"Have you discussed anything with her, anything at all?"

"…"

"So you're going to move back in with you mother, who you haven't seen on a regular basis in thirty years, and you still haven't discussed anything with her."

"I discussed some things."

"Which things?"

"My desire to leave New Jersey."

"Did you include your reason? Did you mention that your plan included moving in with her?"

"Thought I could work up to that."

"You're just going to show up with a moving van full of stuff?"

"…"

"What happened Greg? Something happened. Was it Dr. Foreman's reaction to your apology?"

"He wishes."

"You've got to talk to me. Let's make this real. Let's get it out of your head and into the open, so you can move on."

"There's no moving on, doc. I move and everything comes with me."

"There is such a thing as moving on, Greg. You know there is. You've seen it work."

"I got…scared."

"Of what?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me about being scared."

"I felt good."

"You...felt good that you were scared?"

"No, I was scared because I felt good."

"Well, that might be a new feeling. But it shouldn't be scary."

"I was thinking…what if it's temporary? What if I crash? What if a week from now, nothing I've learned about myself makes sense anymore?"

"That's a common and reasonable fear. That's why you need to keep talking to me."

"I don't know what to do."

"I just told you what to do. Talk to me."

"I mean, I don't know what to do in the in between time. I can't talk to you all day. I don't know how to just..._be."_

"The fact that you're willing to tell me that is a sign that maybe I discharged you a little prematurely."

"..."

"I don't want to go back."

"I didn't say you had to go back. But you need to rethink your strategy."

"..."

"I think you should move in with someone…just not your mother."

"Like a group home?"

"No. Nothing like that. I just meant, you shouldn't be alone. Solitude exacerbates delusional thinking."

"You mean _him?"_

"For example, yes."

_"_That would never work."

"You don't know that."

"I_ know_ that. We tried it once. We'd kill each other after a week."

"So don't move in with him. Get a bigger place together."

"Are you playing matchmaker, Dr. Nolan?"

"No...maybe. But only because I see two people who very obviously need each other."

"Well...unless you're planning to hold a _help Wilson embrace his gayness_ intervention..."

"I said you should live together. I didn't say in what capacity. I think even as friends, you'd do each other some good."

"Right. And what happens when he meets someone and kicks me to the curb?"

"Is he in the market for a new girlfriend?"

"He doesn't have to be. Single women just naturally gravitate towards him. He's like flypaper."

"You could try telling him how you feel."

"And he could try telling me to go away and never speak to him again."

"..."

"It's happened before."

"Therefore it can happen again? You need to stop living in fear of every worst case scenario."

"I live in fear of things that I know can happen, because they have happened. How is that irrational?"

"Because...they might not happen. It could rain tomorrow. But would you carry an umbrella with you all the time, just in case?"

"My heart is racing."

"You're deflecting."

"Seriously."

"That's normal."

"I feel like everyone's watching me."

"They're not."

"I know. I just...seems like they are. See _this_ is why I stopped smoking pot."

"Any chest pain?"

"No."

"Monitor says your pulse is one twenty-four. Your BP is only slightly elevated. That's not too bad."

"This is like being a kid all over again."

"Hmm...what do you mean by that?"

"I don't know."

"Then why say it?"

"..."

"Do you associate something you're feeling now with being a child?"

"I'm...I don't know. I feel like my brain is going to explode."

"Being in an emotionally chaotic state reminds you of being a child."

"Emotion in general reminds me of being a child."

"Back before you stopped stifling it?"

"I feel like I can't remember when that happened. One day I was a basketcase. Another day I was impenetrable."

"Apparently not _completely_ impenetrable."

"I remember this teacher died. I was in seventh grade. He liked me, which most of my teachers didn't. He always let me screw around in his lab, run ridiculous experiments. Halfway through the school year, he died in a freak accident. He was trimming one of the trees in his yard and he fell and broke his neck."

"Did you go to the funeral?"

"My mother made me."

"And how was that?"

"I just...stood there. I couldn't feel anything."

"And you feel guilty about that now. Why?"

"I don't know."

"Did you like him?"

"Yeah. I mean, I never really thought about it until recently. But he was probably my favorite teacher."

"So you feel bad because you think you should have had a more significant reaction to his death."

"Maybe."

"I think there are plenty of other things that are worthy of feeling bad about. Up until that point, you'd yet to experience any genuine human intimacy. It makes sense that you'd have difficulty forming an emotional connection, even with someone you liked. Because if you cared about him and he didn't care back, you'd get hurt. Therefore caring was dangerous. It was a risk. In your mind, the idea of caring about someone else had become taboo."

"..."

"Was that the only time you were unable to respond emotionally to something?"

"No."

"No?"

"I told you when I was sixteen, we were living in Germany. We had these guest speakers who were holocaust survivors. They told stories and showed slides. I remember...seemed like everyone was crying, even most of the guys. I sat there and felt blank. I mean, it was horrible. But I kept thinking that I should be reacting somehow."

"Those things don't make you a bad person, Greg."

"..."

"But you think they do."

"Thing is...lately I've been getting choked up over the stupidest stuff."

"Like what?"

"Like songs, like television shows, like pretty much anything. I was reading this article in People Magazine."

"What was the article about?"

"Some kid who was abducted and finally found, after being missing for five years."

"Some of your meds can result in pathological emotional outbursts. But I think these things are starting to affect you because we made your issues real. All the hurt and confusion that you've been carrying around was sufficiently buried. We dug it up, giving you no choice but to reckon with it."

"I don't suppose we can bury it again."

"No."

"God...only thirty minutes have gone by. I'm going to be stuck here forever."

"A few hours is not forever."

"I gotta get out of this bed."

"In a little bit. Keep talking to me."

"I don't want to talk anymore."

"What do you want to do?"

"Get out of this bed."

"I meant, assuming that's not an option."

"I feel like screaming."

"Alright, then scream."

"In a hospital? You trying to get me committed again?"

"If you scream for no reason, you're crazy? But if you have a legitimate excuse, you're sane. Who made up that rule?"

"Are you _sure_ you're a psychiatrist?"

"..."

"I gotta get out of here."

"Can't do that yet."

"You can get me out of here. You don't need their permission."

"It's not about permission, Greg."

"I need to go somewhere where there's no people...no one to look at me."

"I'm going to page your attending again."

"Don't bother. He hates me. I've turned down dozens of his referrals. No doubt he's looking to exact some sort of revenge."

"Or he's busy with one of the twenty other patients he's overseeing today. There was a code in progress, when I was making my way to your room."

"..."

"Is there some kind of patio on this floor?"

"My old office had a patio."

"Can we get into it?"

"It's probably locked. Wilson's office is next door. It has a patio."

"That's on this floor?"

"The one below us."

"Okay. I'm going wait for your attending to answer my page. Then I'm going to get an orderly to help me put you into a wheelchair. But you have to promise to behave yourself."

"Can you get me some smokes?"

"You don't have any?"

"Wilson took them."

"He doesn't want you to smoke?"

"You'd think he was an oncologist or something."

"You know smoking isn't a good idea, until the psych meds clear your system. How about coffee?"

"Caffeine is hardly a worthy substitute for nicotine."

"Take it or leave it."

"Yeah, I guess."

"..."

"Doc?"

"Huh?"

"I'm glad Wilson called you."

"So am I, Greg. So am I."


	15. The Better Man

_Dialogue only conversation between House and Foreman that takes place immediately following the previous chapter_

* * *

**The Better Man**

"House, hey. You mind if we talk for a minute?"

"What are you doing here?"

"..."

"Who the hell even told you where to find me?"

"Someone named Dr. Nolan."

"Great. I'll be sure and send him a nice fruit basket."

"Can we talk?"

"No. Go away."

"We need to talk."

"I'm pretty sure we don't."

"This is my fault."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"House..."

"Just get the hell out of here."

"No."

"I may not be your boss anymore. But I still have rights...as a patient."

"You're on the couch in Wilson's office."

"So? I'm still a patient. See my fashionable hospital bracelet and coordinating IV stand? Now get out."

"I was wrong about you."

"Judging by your posture, I'd say your back is bothering you, meaning you slept on a sofa last night. You don't think you were wrong. You just don't want to lose access to the vanilla portion of your Jungle Fever swirl."

"I didn't sleep on the sofa. I strained my shoulder moving my elderly neighbor's refrigerator."

"Aren't _you_ the boyscout."

"She's ninety-three years old."

"Don't care. Either way, it has nothing to do with me...meaning you're full of crap. Get out."

"You don't want me to make assumptions about you? Then stop making them about me."

"No."

"I'm trying to tell you that I was wrong."

"Except that you're full of crap. Get out."

"I'm trying to tell you why I reacted the way I did to your apology."

"I don't care why you reacted the way you did."

"Yes, you do."

"_Don't."_

"I didn't want to believe that you'd really changed."

"Seriously. I'm going to call security."

"The scary thing is, I don't even know why."

"And they might hate me. But there's at least a fifty percent chance that they'll show up..."

"Maybe because I'm afraid that I can't."

"Can't what..._change?_ Who the hell said you needed to?"

"..."

"You're the one passing judgment on everyone else, not me. I've mocked you, annoyed you and insulted you. But I've never judged you."

"You're right. You haven't."

"What?"

"..."

"Wait just a damn minute..."

"..."

"Hey, this is_ my_ midlife crisis. Get your own."

"It was wrong of me to assume that you were on heroin, even more wrong of me to deliver that accusation in the form of a joke. There's...nothing funny about it."

"I've been popping pills in front of you for six years. Everyone knows that Vikes are the gateway drug. Don't you watch CSI? I'm thinking of opening a marijuana clinic, by the way. I hear it's becoming quite the lucrative business..."

"I was _wrong_, House. Don't make me say it again."

"Thank God Wilson brought me in, or I'd be robbing a bank right now. I owe my dealer over six grand. Gotta pay him or my backdoor bitch will tell her pimp and then I'll be wearing a pair of concrete shoes...cyanide and TNT. _Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap_..."

"Are you listening to me?"

"Trying _very_ hard not to."

"I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Oh, for God's sake. There is a world outside of you, Foreman."

"I'm serious."

"Okay, great. That's for putting the cloak of insincerity over my sucking chest wound. You succeeded in changing absolutely nothing. You can go now. Try not to trip over your self respect on the way out."

"You wanted me to accept your apology, maybe you should try accepting mine."

"I accept. You're forgiven. Now go in peace my son. Oh and by the way, never talk to me again."

"..."

"You're still here."

"You wanted us to treat you like a human being. Maybe you should try acting like one."

"Been there, done that. You mocked me. Show's over. I'm through. I don't do encore performances."

"House...drop the tough guy routine for a minute and talk to me."

"You don't want to talk to me. You think you're _supposed _to talk to me. You think that's the right thing to do and you want to show how you can be the better man by actually pretending to give a crap."

"Yeah, you're right. I do want to be the better man. But I also really do want to talk to you."

"Hmm. Can't very well do both, can you?"

"I _want_ you to prove me wrong, House. I don't want you to just tell me I was wrong for making that assumption. I want you to show me."

"I'm not doing stupid pet tricks for you. If you want someone to roll over and play dead, ask Thirteen. She's probably into that whole flagellation thing."

"You were right about my brother."

"I know. I don't need you to tell me that. So you can go."

"For a while I didn't go to see him. I didn't even call him. I pretended he didn't exist. Because I didn't want to deal with the fact that I was ashamed of him, of my parents, of where I'd grown up."

"Yeah, yeah. You resent him for not caring, for embracing all the cultural stereotypes that you've tried so hard to shed. Spike Lee would not approve..."

"You're right."

"...Michael Moore would."

"I _do_ resent him."

"Spike Lee?"

"No."

"He's a Knicks fan, you know..."

"My brother."

"...and an Oscar nominee."

"Would you listen to me?"

"Yeah. You resent your brother. I knew that already. Thanks for the recap. Glad we talked. Now you can leave."

"When I quit, Cuddy tried to talk me into staying."

"I'll bet. Did she show you her breasts?"

"I told her why I wanted to leave. She said...there were worse things to turn into besides Gregory House."

"..."

"I think...she was right."

"That's funny. You fled this place like a bat out of hell, because you didn't want to catch_ the evil_."

"..."

"I mean, God...you'd worked for me for three years and didn't even want to use me as a reference on your CV."

"And you were obviously affected by that. I'm sorry."

"I wasn't."

"Right. That's why you're mentioning it now."

"What exactly did you think I was going to say about you? Do you really think I'm _that_ unprofessional?"

"I don't know. I guess I didn't really think about it."

"See what I don't get is...why the hell everyone is so desperate to work for me. They act like it's this immense honor. They clamor for the opportunity, until they actually _get_ the job. Then they run screaming, acting like it's this horrible experience that they'd prefer to pretend never existed. People only admit to being associated with me when they think it will benefit their career. Otherwise it's _House who?"_

"..."

"Why would anyone go to so much trouble to work for someone they obviously can't stand?"

"You think I can't stand you?"

"I _know_ you can't."

"I'm glad I came back."

"No, you're not."

"Yeah, I am."

"You came back because you couldn't get hired anywhere else...which of course, is my fault. I tainted your reputation."

"You're wrong. I could have gotten hired somewhere else, if I'd kissed a little ass."

"Now there's something I'd pay to see."

"I came back because...you can be a jerk. As a physician you're unorthodox and sometimes downright reckless. But you'd never expect me to kiss your ass."

"..."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...considering some of the stuff you say, it was hard for me to imagine you getting your feelings hurt so easily. But that doesn't mean you can't."

"..."

"I'm sorry."

"..."

"You're not...evil. You're just honest. You just say what everyone is probably already thinking. You acknowledge truths most people choose to ignore. You do what everyone wishes they could."

"..."

"Say something."

"Sounds like you rehearsed this."

"I didn't."

"You're only saying this because you think I was trying to kill myself. Let me ease your poor, troubled conscience. I wasn't.

"No...you just freaked out because you cried in front of your old team. You decided to take a few too many antidepressants, and you miscalculated the appropriate dosage. But you weren't trying to commit suicide. You were just trying to stop yourself from feeling. It's an equally desperate act."

"..."

"What?"

"You had_ no_ right to that information. You had no right to know what medication I'm taking at all. You had no right to even know that I was being treated."

"Wilson told me you were here. You left your chart hanging on the bed. When I got to your room, you were gone. I thought it would help me figure out where to look. The information was right there on the top page."

"Jesus Christ."

"Not so much fun when it's your business that's being dug up, is it?"

"I didn't _dig up_ your business. You don't have any business to dig up."

"I didn't see anything else..."

"Get the hell out."

"No."

"..."

"You're not going to send me away or pretend that this isn't happening. You want to avoid looking anyone in the eye because you think that means you're invulnerable. It's bullshit. You just spent almost four months in a mental hospital. Something obviously landed you there. After everything that's happened, how can you even try to pretend that you're not human?"

"I'm done talking to you now."

"You're a coward."

"If I am, you are."

"I never said I wasn't."

"..."

"At least I know what I'm afraid of. You don't even know that you're afraid."

"Yeah, I need you to tell me that my life sucks. Thanks for that lesson in self awareness."

"..."

"You can go now."

"I don't feel like this has made any difference."

"Because it hasn't."

"Are we cool?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No."

"We were never cool, Foreman."

"How can you say that?"

"You decided what you thought of me the second we met...judge, jury and executioner all in one."

"And you don't make assumptions about people_ at all_."

"I assume that everyone lies, because they can, because they _do_. No, not_ everything_ they say is a lie. I'm merely acknowledging their inherent capacity for dishonesty."

"Why can't you acknowledge their inherent capacity for honesty instead?"

"Same reason why you don't."

"..."

"I seem to remember you profiling several of our patients as scam artists, even before you'd run any diagnostic tests."

"And I was right about both of them."

"They were both sick."

"But they still lied."

"That's kind of my point."

"..."

"This conversation is over now. I'm exhausted and I'd like to sleep this off."

"Are we okay?"

"Why does it matter?"

"I don't know, House. I just know that it does."

"Yeah."

"So we're okay?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good."


	16. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 12

_Phone conversation between House and Dr. Nolan._

**

* * *

**

Another Sixty Minutes

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's me."

"You sound better."

"I feel better."

"Good. I take it you spoke with Dr. Foreman?"

"Yes, oodles of thanks for sending him my way."

"You're not angry, I hope. I didn't tell him anything, except where to find you."

"I _was_ angry, actually."

"And?"

"And I got over it."

"Glad to hear it."

"..."

"So what did you talk about?"

"He...expressed some regrets."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel."

"How do you _think_ you're supposed to feel?"

"I thought there was nothing he could do or say to fix...what he'd already said. After arguing with him for about fifteen minutes, I realized I didn't care that much anymore. It stopped mattering to me."

"This is excellent. You're learning to pick your battles, that it's not necessary to win every fight."

"Right. Who knew that apathy was the secret to conflict resolution?"

"There's a difference between apathy and realizing that something isn't worth your energy."

"I guess."

"Speaking of communicating and working things out with other people...Did you talk to your mother?"

"Briefly."

"And?"

"And, I've decided I'm not going to move in with her."

"I think that's wise."

"..."

"But I also think it would be unwise for you to continue living alone."

"Wilson…said he was ready to move out of Amber's place. He thought maybe we could get a condo together or something."

"Really."

"Don't act surprised. I know you put him up to it."

"I may have suggested that it was time for him to move on and finding a new place to live would be an excellent way to facilitate that. But I didn't imply that he should specifically move in with you. That was his decision."

"Right."

"I may have also hinted that I'd rather you not be alone right now. Perhaps he inferred from that."

"..."

"So when is this going to happen?"

"Next month. He already found a place. I'm going to stay with him until then."

"How do you feel about the idea of living with him? I know you had some apprehensions."

"I don't know. The condo is going to have two bedrooms and two bathrooms, a living room and a den. We'll have plenty of space."

"You think the lack of space was what led to problems before?"

"He was sleeping on my couch and we were sharing a bathroom. So...yeah."

"He did mention that you took exception to his grooming habits."

"He blow-dries his hair."

"He is slightly…"

"Vain?"

"I was going to say _obsessive_ about his appearance. But _vain_ works just as well."

"..."

"And we all have our quirks, Greg. Sharing personal space with anyone would eventually prove to be a challenge."

"…"

"Something is bothering you though. What is it?"

"Why would you think that?"

"Because _you_ called _me_. I doubt it was to talk about James blow-drying his hair."

"I'm just tired."

"Because?"

"I haven't been sleeping."

"At all?"

"Few hours here and there. I've been grabbing naps. Which is fine now. But it might pose a problem when I try to go back to work."

"You taking any of the Ativan?"

"It doesn't help. It relaxes me. It doesn't knock me out."

"We could try upping the dose from point five milligrams."

"I took two milligrams the other night and still couldn't sleep."

"Step one to curing insomnia is considering your environment. Is there too much noise? Is there not enough noise? Is it the wrong kind of noise? Is it physically comfortable? Is it dark enough to facilitate sleep? Is it too dark?"

"It's none of those things."

"You're sure."

"..."

"It could be stress."

"Stress from what?"

"Decisions, having to re-test for your medical license. Anything relating to your job and living situation is a major life change."

"It's not that either."

"Then it sounds like you know what it is already."

"..."

"Are you having unpleasant dreams?"

"…"

"What do you dream about?"

"Nothing really. It's…vague."

"Give me an example."

"I mostly dream about work related stuff."

"More specifically."

"I never worked in the emergency room, at least not outside of my mandatory rotation. But I sometimes dream that I'm the senior attending and there's this huge crash and all these people come in mangled and bloody."

"How often do you have that dream?"

"Here and there."

"What else do you dream about?"

"Just...random things."

"Do you dream much about crashes…motor vehicle related injuries? I know you said before you had a reccuring dream that involved a bus crashing."

"You think I have PTSD."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to. I'm familiar with your thought process."

"It's not a far fetched notion. For most people, any sort of crash would be a traumatic experience. Considering the circumstances of yours, and the degree to which you tend to repress your feelings, it's not unreasonable to think you were affected, even if the results weren't immediate or obvious."

"…"

"Why don't you tell me about it."

"I don't know. I don't remember it that well."

"Why don't you tell me what you _do_ remember."

"I remember drinking at the bar. I remember calling Wilson to come get me."

"Okay."

"Thing is, I don't remember the crash itself as well as I remember...other things."

"What other things?"

"Like I remember almost tripping when I was getting onto the bus. I remember belching when I sat down. I remember what some of the other passengers looked like. I remember Amber digging through her purse. I remember her asking me for a tissue to blow her nose and me making some lame joke."

"In what way was it lame?"

"I don't remember. I just remember that it wasn't funny."

"Perhaps you feel bad."

"Because she's dead, yeah. Thought of that already. Doesn't explain why it's nagging at me."

"Actually, it kind of does."

"..."

"You don't remember the accident at all? Do you remember anything from the actual crash?"

"I remember thinking…when are we going to stop? The bus…when we got hit the first time, we just rolled. I remember feeling like it was never going to stop. Even though it was probably only ten or twelve seconds."

"What did you think was going to happen to you?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought maybe I'd be crushed. I wasn't thinking about anything except…I don't know, what was going to happen to me, to my body."

"It sounds like you feel bad for having those thoughts. Why?"

"…"

"Maybe you feel bad because...in a fight or flight situation, you had no choice but to think only of yourself. Since you tend to put yourself last, it makes sense that would bother you."

"I don't put myself last. I'm the most selfish person I know."

"I have to disagree. I don't think you're selfish enough. Where it counts, you put yourself last. You sometimes disregard yourself altogether. And you said that as soon as the bus stopped moving, you went and tended to Amber's injuries. Even if you were thinking only of yourself during the moment of impact, I hardly think it's worth feeling guilty about."

"..."

"What?"

"…"

"What's bothering you?"

"..."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong. But from the tone of your voice before and your lack of response now, I'd say you were hiding something."

"..."

"I'm right, right?"

"Yes."

"What are you hiding?"

"..."

"You're intentionally being transparent because you actually want to tell me what's bothering you. Why don't you just save yourself some time and energy and just come out with it."

"The crash."

"What about it?"

"I do dream about it."

"How often?"

"All the time."

"How often is _all the time_?"

"Almost every night...sometimes during the day."

"I had a feeling."

"..."

"I really do think talking about it would help, perhaps even joining a support group."

"That's just it. I don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me what you feel when you think about having to talk about it."

"Tense...nauseated."

"Okay, but that's physical. I'm talking about emotional."

"I can't really put a finger on it."

"Maybe if I list off some things, we can figure it out together."

"..."

"Fear, anxiety?"

"No. I mean, yeah. But that's not it."

"Dread? Maybe an overwhelming sense that something bad is going to happen?"

"No. It's not like that. It's not really about the crash itself."

"Then what's it about?"

"..."

"Perhaps it has to do with Amber's death."

"..."

"Have you ever felt this way about anything else?"

"Not sure."

"Perhaps what you're feeling is grief."

"No."

"Are you sure? Are you sure you'd even recognize it?"

"It's not grief."

"Remorse, then?"

"...."

"Maybe?"

"It's more like...regret."

"Okay. What do you regret?"

"I would have thought that was obvious."

"I'm asking you to tell me so you can talk about it."

"I don't like thinking about it, that it was my fault. I know that it was. I feel like the whole world is going forward and I'm stuck there on that bus. I hate myself for killing her. Whenever I think about what happened...I hate myself."

"Makes sense that you'd want to avoid thinking about it, then."

"..."

"I think the fact that you're able to articulate that is a very good sign. You're ashamed of this mistake. You have a hard time moving on from anything you perceive as a failure. We need to find a way to help you overcome this obstacle."

"I'm open to suggestions."

"Which again...is a wonderful sign. That you're asking me for advice is a good sign. First of all, you need to remind yourself that you can't change what is. You can't bring her back or undo the mistake. Therefore you can't fix it. You're only choice is to move on. You need to accept that she's gone, that yes it was your fault. But you are sorry and you never meant for it to happen and it hasn't diminished your value as a human being."

"..."

"Have you talked to James about this? I mean, outside of what took place in my office."

"Not really."

"Have you visited her grave?"

"I don't even know where she's buried."

"I think you should talk to James about this."

"..."

"Here's what I think you should do. I think you and James should go to the cemetery together. Take along some flowers and put them on her grave. Then you should apologize to her. More than likely, that will facilitate some discussion between you."

"You want me to apologize to a dead person?"

"Just say the words. Get it out so you can move on."

"..."

"Why the apprehension?"

"You want me to do this with Wilson standing right there?"

"You can. Or you can ask him to give you a minute alone. But either way, I think you should go together. If you make him part of the process, then he can move on too. You can move on together."

"I don't know what to say."

"Are you sorry she's dead?"

"You already know that I am."

"Then just say that."

"..."

"Say _I'm sorry you died. It wasn't fair. I accept responsibility for the part I played in it, and I'm sorry_. And if you want to get more technical, you can apologize for all the things she'll be missing, now that she's dead. Because I'm guessing that at least subconsciously, you've contemplated them. You said that you hate yourself. The point is to address all the reasons that you hate yourself, get them out and make them real and then be done with them."

"If I do this, that will just fix everything?"

"It's not about fixing. It's about moving on."

"This will help me to move on, then?"

"It's a start."

"..."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Couldn't I just do this alone?"

"You could. But I think it would be better if you didn't."

"..."

"If you have an emotional reaction, it's okay. It's okay for James to see that. You don't have to be embarrassed."

"It's not that. He's...seen me cry."

"Besides that day in my office?"

"..."

"What's bothering you about this?"

"It's...complicated."

"How is it complicated?"

"It's not...she wasn't _my _girlfriend."

"So?"

"So...it's not like I have any reason to _grieve_ her."

"You said she spent several weeks working for you. You must have mentored her in some capacity. You mentioned that you were old enough to be her father, meaning you may have developed a psuedo parent child relationship."

"It's not the same thing."

"Your grief is real and valid. It's okay to mourn someone who you weren't particularly close to. It's okay to mourn someone that you've never even met. Bear in mind that any tears you shed may not be tears of grief, but remorse."

"..."

"You think James is going to take offense to you crying about his dead girlfriend?"

"You don't think he will?"

"I think that is a risk worth taking. Your feelings are important. You should express them, regardless of what other people think about it."

"..."

"And you don't want to hurt him either."

"..."

"You think that you crying over his dead girlfriend is breaking some kind of universal law."

"I don't know."

"The idea of grief confuses you."

"..."

"Have you visited Dr. Kutner's grave?"

"No."

"I think you should put that on your list of things to do. Are you still planning to help your mother handle her home repairs?"

"I thought I might drive up there for a weekend, if Wilson agrees to come with."

"You don't want to go alone?"

"Not especially."

"Have you thought about how you might make amends with your mother?"

"Haven't quite gotten there yet."

"When are you planning to visit her?"

"Not for another month or two at least."

"While you're there, visit your father's grave. Talk to him, get closure, leave some flowers."

"Flowers for my dad...is kind of weird."

"It's symbolic."

"It's gay."

"Technically, so are you."

"Hey, now. I prefer the term...open-minded."

"Open minded people don't scoff at the idea of leaving flowers on their father's grave."

"True."

"You need to get it out and move on. I know it doesn't seem like it. But you're clinging desperately to this baggage. You don't seem to realize how incredibly heavy it is, or that's it's weighing you down. All you have to do is drop it, and life will get a whole lot easier. But you're not ready to let go."

"..."

"Don't sound so discouraged. You've got about half as much baggage as you had when you first set foot in my office. I am very pleased with the progress you've made, especially for beginning the therapeutic process so late in life."

"..."

"It's okay to say_ thank you_."

"Thank you."

"..."

"And what if I do all that and still can't sleep?"

"Tell you what. Why don't you try it before you decide it's not going to work?"

"..."

"Okay?"

"Okay."


	17. Just Say No

_Wilson calls Dr. Nolan about House_

* * *

**Just Say No**

"Hi. It's James…Wilson."

"What can I do for you, James?"

"The reason I'm calling is…I was just wondering…this is going to sound strange."

"I doubt it."

"It's about House."

"I kind of figured."

"It's about his...stay at Mayfield."

"Uh huh. What about it?"

"What exactly did you _do_ to him in there?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

"He's...different."

"Oh? How so?"

"Yesterday, he did all the laundry...his _and_ mine. Then he folded it."

"That was very thoughtful of him."

"It was weird."

"Did he give a reason?"

"He said I was out of socks and underwear."

"Were you?"

"Yes."

"Sounds like a good enough reason to me."

"And the mail...he's been going to the mailbox every day and getting it."

"So?"

"So...he doesn't open any of mine. He doesn't even go through it. He just leaves it in a stack on the kitchen counter."

"Respecting personal boundaries...seems like it would be a good thing to me."

"It is."

"Yet you sound almost...affronted."

"I'm not affronted. I just...think it's weird."

"Okay."

"And earlier this week...I made a tuna casserole. It was for dinner the next day. So I put it in the fridge and told him not to touch it."

"And?"

"And he _didn't_."

"Well I can certainly see why that would be cause for concern."

"_And_ he thanked me."

"Thanked you for what?"

"For…not enabling him."

"In what sense?"

"About a week after he was admitted, he called me…_after_ you did, of course. He wanted some information about you. He was hoping to blackmail you for…something. God knows what he had up his sleeve. I didn't even give him a chance to explain. I just did exactly like you said...I told him _no_."

"And he thanked you for doing that."

"Yeah...well, he actually said _thank you for saying no_."

"And that surprises you."

"No…well, yes."

"Why?"

"It's just…unfamiliar."

"As I often have to remind my patients, unfamiliar isn't necessarily bad. Sometimes it can be very good."

"I didn't say it was _bad_."

"Well then, what's the problem?"

"I just…I was curious as to what you might have said or done that would lead to this…miraculous transformation."

"Ah, well. You'll have to ask _him_ that, won't you?"

"I tried."

"And he wouldn't tell you. Perhaps that means he rather you appreciate the way he is now, instead of obsessing about the way he was before."

"I'm not _obsessing_."

"Okay."

"I know he'd rather I didn't know the _why_ and_ how_. That's why I'm calling you."

"And you knew I'd have to tell you _no_."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"You two really are more alike than different."

"What sort of answer is that?"

"The only one I can give you."

"Thanks."

"So...is that the _only_ reason you're calling?"

"No..."

"Okay."

"..."

"What's on your mind, James?"

"I wasn't sure if he'd told you. But he...hasn't been sleeping well."

"Oh?"

"I think he might be having...nightmares."

"Why would you think that?"

"He…talks in his sleep."

"What does he say?"

"Nothing audible really...just noises. Sometimes he moans. I hear him…he gets up and paces a lot, goes outside and smokes, comes back in and plays solitaire on the computer, then lays down again."

"Hmm. Sounds like you're not sleeping much either, then."

"Has he mentioned anything to you?"

"You know I can't tell you that."

"I just meant…"

"I know what you meant. And _you_ know that I can't tell you."

"Right. Sorry."

"There's an easier way to find out the truth, you know. It's faster too."

"If I thought that asking him might actually lead to the truth, I would have gone with that."

"So you didn't even try. Where's your faith in this_ miraculous transformation_?"

"So he_ is_ having nightmares, isn't he?"

"Again, I can't tell you that. But he definitely could."

"What are they about?"

"James."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Your curiosity is natural. I'm just professionally obligated _not_ to satisfy it."

"..."

"Sounds like there's more that you want to tell me though."

"No. Well, yes. There's something else. Well, not _something else_…"

"Why don't you stop causing yourself undue stress and just tell me what it is?"

"I was thinking…this might sound incredibly lame. But I was thinking that, if he _were_ having bad dreams…I know that when I've had bad dreams...sometimes it helps people to not be alone…I mean maybe I could ask him…or maybe _he_ could…"

"Sleep with you?"

"..."

"Is that a _yes_?"

"How do you think he'd respond to that?"

"Depends on how you ask him. When you invite another person into your bed, it's good to make your reasons clear, if you don't want anyone to get hurt that is."

"You think he's going to end up getting hurt?"

"_Someone_ definitely will."

"Why would you think that?"

"How many times in your life have you attempted to _save_ someone else from something by inviting them into your bed? How often has that worked out for you, or the other party for that matter?"

"This wouldn't be like that. I mean, we're not…he's not interested in me like that."

"Okay."

"What does that mean? Did he say something to you?"

"Would I be able to tell you if he had?"

"No..."

"You need to talk to _him_."

"I don't know what to say."

"Have you ever slept in the same bed before?"

"Sort of…"

"When?"

"Medical conference...we booked our room late and there were only singles available."

"I see. Who booked the room?"

"He did. He was supposed to have called ahead, of course. But you know House."

"Yes, I do."

"Wait. You don't think...you think he did that on purpose?"

"..."

"Right. Sorry. I'll stop asking questions that you can't answer."

"..."

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"Hoo boy. No...I don't think I am."

"What are you doing, James?"

"I…don't…I have no idea."

"But you'd like it to end with him in your bed. Or perhaps you'd like it to start there."

"I didn't _say_ that."

"You didn't have to. I'm familiar with your work. The question is, are you prepared to deal with what that really means?"

"This is going to be a complete disaster."

"Not necessarily."

"What do you know?"

"Nothing that I can tell you."

"Darryl...please. I'm going out of my mind here."

"What do you feel?"

"I don't know."

"I'm sure you do. Take a minute and think about it."

"..."

"And what does _he_ feel?"

"God, I have _no_ idea."

"But you could ask him."

"..."

"You could find out what he's feeling and you already _know_ what you're feeling."

"So?"

"So...do what feels right."

"How the hell am I supposed to know what that is?"

"Whatever _feels_ right, James, is probably right."

"Right."

"Okay?"

"Okay. Yes. Okay."

"Good luck, then."

"Bye."


	18. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 13

_"This is my mistake. Let me make it good. I raised the wall, and I will be the one to knock it down."_

_

* * *

_

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"What are you doing here?"

"The door was unlocked and James seemed to think you might want some company."

"On the bathroom floor?"

"..."

"He just wants to make sure I don't puke on his rug…again.

"That too."

"It's Sunday."

"So?"

"Don't you have...whatever it is that normal people do on Sundays?"

"You missed your appointment yesterday and my wife is visiting with her sister."

"Lucky me."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like a tractor ran over my head…backed up and ran over it again."

"Good."

"Bite me."

"I think it's good that you're suffering direct and obvious consequences for your actions."

"Of course you do."

"The nausea, headache and light sensitivity are your body's way of saying that downing a eight bottles of beer in ninety minutes is something it would rather you don't repeat."

"No kidding."

"The question is, will you learn from this?"

"Gee, Dad. I don't know."

"..."

"..."

"You think I'm angry with you."

"You're not?"

"No."

"You should be."

"Why?"

"You just should."

"I'm not angry. I'm disappointed."

"Of course you are."

"_For_ you, not _in_ you.

"..."

"You worked so hard to get sober and you threw it away without talking to me first."

"Because talking to you solves _everything_."

"..."

"Sorry."

"Talking to me does _not_ solve everything. But talking to _anyone_ would have been better than this."

"It wouldn't have mattered."

"Anyone could have intervened. It wouldn't have to be me, or even James. The reason you didn't talk to anyone, is because you didn't want to be stopped."

"..."

"I think you should consider getting a sponsor."

"Pawning me off on someone else already?"

"I didn't say they would replace me as your primary therapist. I'm not a substance abuse expert. I think it would be good for you to have someone who can hold you accountable, someone who isn't deeply involved with your life, outside of helping you manage your addictions."

"Right."

"You don't believe me?"

"I believe that _you_ believe you."

"..."

"Eventually, you're going to get sick of this."

"Is that your goal…to drive me away?"

"It's not a goal, just an inevitability."

"If you're trying to exasperate me, you're going to have to try a whole lot harder than that. I have three grown children."

"All in college, I'm sure."

"My youngest is seventeen and he's a senior in high school."

"Well, the other two then."

"My older son is twenty-two and he's a pharmacy technician. My daughter is twenty and currently starring in a David Mamet play, with a small theater company in Pittsburgh."

"And you're okay with that, of course."

"They're happy."

"Right."

"My son is dyslexic. I'm proud of what he's accomplished. He's employed and financially independent. For him, that's remarkable success."

"And your daughter still lives at home?"

"She's come and gone several times. She almost got married once, changed her mind. She's fickle. But I think she'll eventually find her way."

"And the youngest?"

"Isn't quite sure what he wants to do yet."

"…"

"I'm not happy with everything my kids have done. But that doesn't mean I don't love them. That doesn't mean I don't want them to be happy."

"..."

"In case you're wondering, I apply the same principle to my patients."

"I'm sure none of your kids have gotten so drunk that they puked all over your bathroom floor."

"No, they haven't. But my older son did get into trouble for vandalizing a teacher's house. My younger son has had his fair share of detention. And my daughter was truant so many times her senior year, that she had to sign an attendance contract in order to graduate."

"…"

"Why would you assume that my children are perfect?"

"…"

"You need to learn the difference between self loathing and merely being disappointed. It's okay to let yourself down, as long as you take responsibility and move on. But if it's just an excuse to hate yourself and no change comes of it, then it's pointless. You are _not_ this mistake."

"…"

"All you've failed to do is stay sober _today_. Tomorrow's another day. Tomorrow you start over. It's one day at a time, Greg."

"Well _today_ I'm going to throw up."

"Okay."

"..."

"You mean _right now?_"

"…"

"..."

"Oh...I am _so_ sorry."

"It's fine."

"Of course it is."

"They're only shoes."

"..."

"And it was an accident."

"That's what we'll tell ourselves."

"You expect me to believe that you vomited on my shoes on purpose?"

"..."

"Feel better?"

"Yes, actually."

"I'll get you some water."

"Thanks."

"Why don't we move this out to the living room?"

"Yeah, okay."

"..."

"..."

"You planning on doing this again?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Please, take a picture. You can label it _rock bottom_."

"You think _this_ is rock bottom?"

"..."

"Why would you consider this rock bottom?"

"Because I'm pathetic."

"No, you're not."

"I got sick after drinking eight bottles of beer."

"So?"

"I used to be able to put away twice that much."

"I don't see how losing your tolerance for alcohol makes you _pathetic_."

"No, it's..."

"What?"

"I didn't even try to resist. I just..._lied_."

"Lied to whom?"

"I told Wilson I was going out to get more ingredients for spaghetti sauce. I hopped in the car and headed for the liquor store, came home and hid the beer in the hallway closet."

"I take it you forgot about the spaghetti sauce."

"Yeah."

"Wasn't James suspicious when you came back empty handed?"

"Strangely, no."

"Why do you think you did that?"

"Because I'm a liar?"

"You told a lie. But you are not _a liar_. You are more than just _what_ you do."

"I still did it. It's like...I didn't even feel bad about it."

"Sounds like you feel bad about it now."

"So?"

"Meaning that regardless of your attempts to convince yourself otherwise, you're not immoral."

"..."

"You need a sponsor."

"I won't call them."

"Why?"

"Same reason why I didn't call you."

"Why do you think you did this?"

"..."

"You need to tell me, even if you're ashamed, even if it's embarrassing."

"My leg hurt."

"Perhaps you thought booze would be better than pills."

"I thought it would take my mind off of the pain."

"Well, you're definitely distracted now."

"..."

"Where's the rest of the beer?"

"Wilson poured it down the sink."

"The empty bottles?"

"He took them with him...along with his cooking sherry, white wine vinegar, cough syrup and 3 jars of marischino cherries."

"Interesting ensemble of items."

"I'm a creative addict."

"So…what happened?"

"..."

"_Something_ definitely happened."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Forgive me, but you look incredibly guilty."

"I got plowed before breakfast this morning and just threw up on my therapist's shoes. This is about as sheepish as I get."

"I didn't say you looked sheepish. I said you looked guilty."

"..."

"I can wait until you're ready to tell me."

"Why do you assume there's anything to tell?"

"Because I know you."

"..."

"That's fine. You don't have to tell me."

"We...slept in the same bed Friday night."

"Hmm."

"Hmm? Not…_good_, or _great,_ or..._wonderful?"_

"It's only great if you wanted it to be."

"..."

"Did you_ want_ him to sleep in your bed?"

"Technically it's _his_ bed. My leg was hurting and he told me to go ahead and use it. I assumed he was going to take the couch."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Because he's straight?"

"As far as you know."

"..."

"So what happened?"

"I went to bed around ten. He stayed up and read, and joined me around eleven thirty."

"Interesting. Did you do anything besides sleep?"

"No."

"Did he say why he joined you there?"

"No."

"So neither of you discussed this. You and your same sex friend slept in the same bed and neither of you addressed the _why_."

"That surprises you?"

"What about the next morning?"

"He got up before me."

"Did he make breakfast?"

"Yeah. But he usually does. That's not different."

"What did he make?"

"Waffles, same as every Saturday morning."

"Do you _like_ his waffles?"

"Assuming you're actually talking about waffles..."

"What sort of mood was he in?"

"He was...whistling."

"Is that good?"

"He only does that when he's happy."

"So he was happy."

"..."

"Did you touch each other at all, during the night?"

"Not really."

"Not really?"

"His knee brushed up against me…a couple times."

"Were you tempted to touch him?"

"…"

"How did you sleep?"

"I didn't."

"You stared at the ceiling and obsessed for eight hours."

"Mmm...pretty much."

"Which means you did something else, besides obsess."

"I...went to the bathroom around two o'clock, took a shower."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"You weren't worried about him being suspicious as to why you'd be taking a shower in the middle of the night?"

"He was out cold. Wilson can sleep through anything."

"And you know that because?"

"..."

"So how was that?"

"How was _what?"_

"Your shower."

"It was a very_ brief_ and dissatisfying shower. Thanks for asking."

"What do you want this to mean?"

"I'm not sure."

"You need to talk to him."

"No shit."

"But you're scared. You're scared to _assume_ it meant anything."

"Wouldn't be the first time I participated in something that was completely meaningless."

"You've been staying at his place for almost a month and you're going to be moving into a condo together at the end of the week."

"So?"

"So…do you think James would risk compromising his living situation by casually climbing into your bed?"

"_His_ bed."

"_His_ bed then. He made a choice. It involved sleeping with you."

"Wouldn't be the first time for that either. He cheated on his wives…all of whom _casually_."

"I think this is different. Your relationship with him has outlasted any of his marriages, meaning that it's important."

"Maybe it's just convenient."

"You've stated on several occasions that you are in fact, quite inconvenient."

"And you said I was wrong to think that way about myself."

"I'm merely making a point. Your relationship is obviously important. I don't think he'd throw it away over something trivial."

"…"

"Given what I know about him as a person, I think it's more likely that he planned it. James wouldn't jump in the pool without testing the water first."

"I'm surprised he gets wet at all."

"I have a theory on why he might have done this. But I don't want to taint anything with my speculation."

"I don't mind. Taint away."

"When you move into the condo, you will have your own bedrooms."

"And?"

"And no one will be left sleeping on the couch."

"So?"

"So...there will be fewer opportunities for you to _accidentally_ end up in bed together."

"..."

"You need to talk to him."

"I think I'm just going to wait."

"For what?"

"See what happens."

"I see. How many more times will you have to sleep in the same bed for you to be willing to talk about it? Or are you just hoping that _he'll_ be the one to talk about it?"

"…"

"What were you thinking about, before you got out of bed and headed to the bathroom?"

"You…don't want to know."

"Actually, I do."

"…"

"You're not going to horrify me, Greg."

"Maybe I'll horrify myself."

"What's horrible about it? Just because I'm straight, you think I'm not familiar with the mechanics of gay sex?"

"..."

"I'm not going to judge you."

"Doesn't mean you want to hear the dirty details."

"I'm guessing you've never spoken about this with anyone, meaning you haven't really dealt with it. Might be good to get it out in the open."

"I thought about kissing him."

"But you didn't. Why?"

"I hadn't shaved in a few days."

"Is that the only reason?"

"That and...he doesn't like the smell of cigarette smoke. I assume that means he wouldn't enjoy the taste of it either."

"So quit."

"..."

"What's more important, James or smoking?"

"It's not about_ important_."

"It helps with the pain."

"Yeah."

"I'm assuming he must know that."

"Yeah."

"He climbed into bed with you, remember? Obviously the smell wasn't bothering him _that_ much"

"I considered that also."

"So that's_ all_ you thought about...kissing?"

"No."

"…"

"I thought about…him going…you know."

"Performing oral sex?"

"Yeah."

"On you."

"No."

"No?"

"On a woman."

"Any particular woman?"

"His second wife."

"Really."

"Yeah, that's not fucked up at all."

"Is she attractive?"

"You never met her?"

"I met his first wife. I don't recall meeting his second."

"She's not _un_attractive."

"But the idea of James being intimate with a woman turns you on."

"I...guess."

"Perhaps the idea of James being intimate with particular women turns you on."

"..."

"I could read a lot into that, if I wanted."

"I'm sure you will anyway."

"The fact that even in your fantasies, you don't picture yourself together, says that you don't view yourself as a worthy mate. You subconsciously assume that the closest you get to being physically intimate with James will be by some sort of more socially acceptable proxy, or someone to whom you know James has already committed himself."

"…"

"I did think about it."

"About what?"

"Us…together, physically."

"What were you doing?"

"_It_."

"More specifically."

"You know...you don't really need to know _everything_."

"I think it might help you to talk about it."

"…"

"If I were a pervert, I could go online or buy magazines like anyone else. I think you need to talk about this. I want you to feel comfortable talking about it. Because then you'll be comfortable dealing with it."

"We were having sex."

"In what sense?"

"What sense _is _there?"

"I mean…position and arrangement, who was giving and who was receiving. It's all relevant."

"I don't remember."

"I'll bet you do."

"..."

"This bothers you."

"No."

"Then why not just tell me?"

"I was receiving, okay?"

"And that embarrasses you, the idea of penetrative sex."

"No..."

"Do you think you're more gay if you allow another man to penetrate you, than you'd be if you were the one doing the penetrating?"

"Stop...saying..._penetrate_."

"This really bothers you. It bothers you that you want to be on the receiving end of anal sex. Why?"

"You watch many prison documentaries?"

"Sure. But this would be…voluntary. You're not being raped."

"…"

"Or _are _you being raped?"

"…"

"Your fantasy involves being raped, or your fantasy involves being raped by James?"

"..."

"Explain that to me."

"Not…it's not rape."

"Explain that to me."

"..."

"Again, I'm not going to judge you."

"I know that. You don't have to keep telling me that."

"Don't I?"

"It's...he has his hand over my mouth. He kind of...I don't know."

"Think about it. Give me an adjective."

"Forceful."

"He restrains you somehow."

"I can't even believe I'm telling you this..."

"Greg..."

"..."

"He holds you down?"

"..."

"But you like it."

"..."

"That's okay, Greg."

"Right. Thanks. Great. Good to know."

"It's just rough sex. It's not nonconsensual. Considering your issues with intimacy, that actually makes a lot of sense. You subconsciously long to give up control of your body, to be able to trust someone that much."

"…"

"This is actually a good thing."

"I'll bet."

"Have you ever had anal sex?"

"I already told you that I've never _been_ with another guy."

"That doesn't mean you haven't stuck something else up there."

"…"

"I'm relieved to see that there's a topic that even Gregory House finds embarrassing."

"Right. Can we change the subject now?"

"It's healthy. It's healthy to be modest about some things. That's what makes us human."

"…"

"So…_have_ you stuck anything up there?"

"…"

"I'm going to guess that you have."

"..."

"What was it?"

"…"

"Dildo, finger…some kind of latex plug?"

"Definitely one of those."

"Which one?"

"Do I actually have to say?"

"You don't_ have_ to. Again, I think it would be helpful for you to talk about it."

"Eh..."

"You bought it for yourself?"

"No."

"..."

"My girlfriend..."

"Had one?"

"More like a battery operated shine to auto-eroticism."

"She...liked to masturbate?"

"She just liked toys. I think she owned stock in Duracell."

"So when would you use these...toys?"

"She traveled a lot for work. When she was away on business…"

"You'd explore."

"Yeah."

"That's perfectly okay, you know."

"Yeah...and I will sue you to death if you even think about repeating any of this to anyone, whether they know me or not."

"..."

"Seriously, this conversation never took place."

"You really haven't dealt with this at all, _have_ you?"

"..."

"How often would you do this?"

"..."

"I can see that this is bothering you. But I want you to feel comfortable talking about it."

"Usually...whenever she was out of town."

"How often was that?"

"Couple days a month."

"Did you find it was easier to achieve orgasm that way?"

"..."

"It's okay if the answer is_ yes_."

"..."

"Were you able to get aroused with the toys alone or did you need some visual encouragement?"

"..."

"Greg, this is totally confidential. We're just two people talking. We're not in session. I'm not taking notes."

"I would occasionally watch movies."

"How often is _occasionally_?"

"Okay, it was more like _always_."

"Did you ever watch any _gay _movies?"

"..."

"Did your girlfriend ever suspect that you might be attracted to men?"

"She hinted at it. But no."

"Hinted at it how?"

"She would call Wilson _the other woman_."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"How did you feel about that?"

"I don't know. I figured if I treated it like a joke..."

"She'd never realize how close it was to the truth."

"..."

"Has anyone else ever accused you of being gay, someone who might have meant it as an insult?"

"..."

"Peers?"

"No."

"Your father?"

"..."

"Why do you think he might have done that?"

"Because...I didn't have a girlfriend. Because I didn't want to play football. Because I didn't want to join the Marine Corps. I don't know."

"Do you think that perhaps your apprehension about embracing your sexuality stems from that disapproval?"

"I'm sure it does."

"What about your mother?"

"What about her?"

"Where does she stand on issues of homosexuality?"

"She's...of the belief that God created woman to _assist man_."

"So she's religious. Deeply so?"

"Not deeply. I doubt she even really knows why she believes half of what she believes."

"So she's just reflecting what she was taught."

"Pretty much."

"How would you feel about people knowing that you were in a relationship with another man?"

"I don't know. I guess I don't really care."

"At all?"

"It doesn't matter."

"You don't care what people think of you."

"Not about that particular aspect of my life."

"Where do you want this to go?"

"I don't know."

"I think you should figure that out before you do or say anything else."

"Yeah."

"Especially since you'll be moving in together permanently."

"Nothing's _permanent_."

"Semi-permanently then. You're signing a lease together. That's a commitment."

"..."

"And also, it's the beginning of November."

"Uh, okay. Very good. And next month it will be December."

"I meant that...he holidays are approaching. How are you coping with that?"

"…"

"We both know that this will be a difficult time for you, especially if you haven't sorted out the nature of your relationship with James."

"…"

"Let's talk about holidays."

"Let's not and say we did."

"Tell me about holidays for you, growing up. How was Christmas?"

"It varied."

"From what?"　

"My mother had a nativity set that her grandfather had carved out of wood. She'd usually put that up. Most of the time we weren't able to get a tree."

"Why not?"

"Couldn't always get one. Sometimes the bases where we lived would have one huge tree and they'd decorate that. Depended on where we lived."

"Do you have a favorite Christmas?"

"Not...really."

"Do you have any positive memories of holidays, as a child?"

"No."

"Think really hard about it. You mentioned living with your grandparents for a year. I imagine you must have celebrated at least one or two holidays, during that time."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, what?"

"Yeah we celebrated holidays with them. That was the only year I ever really went trick-or-treating."

"Why?"

"Usually the bases we lived on would have some kind of party for kids under twelve. You'd get all your candy there."

"So what were you?"

"Superman. My grandmother made me the outfit."

"Sounds like you enjoyed that."

"Well...all the other kids had these cheap plastic costumes."

"I remember those."

"My grandmother made an actual Superman outfit with a real cape. I got these red boots at a thrift store. My grandfather put black shoe polish in my hair."

"Your hair wasn't dark enough?"

"I was blond when I was a kid."

"Ah. Got any pictures of you in the costume?"

"I don't think so. My family wasn't big on taking pictures."

"Do you have _any_ pictures?"

"I have a few. I have school pictures, two of my high school yearbooks, some stuff my roommate took in college."

"Do you regret not having more pictures?"

"Not really."

"Why?"

"There isn't a lot from that period of my life that I really want to remember."

"That doesn't mean it wasn't important. Also, as you might have noticed, your perspective of events tends to change over time. It's okay to miss things that you never thought you would."

"Yeah."

"It's okay to miss people that you didn't think you would too."

"..."

"You miss him, don't you?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"It's okay if you do."

"..."

"It's okay if you don't too."

"I shouldn't miss him."

"That doesn't mean you don't."

"..."

"Why shouldn't you?"

"I…God, I never even saw the man. He was like…"

"Feelings aren't rational, Greg. You're not just mourning him. You're mourning the loss of potential reconciliation. You're mourning the loss of him being your biological father. You're mourning all the things you never got to enjoy, because of him."

"That seems like a lot of mourning for a person I hardly ever saw and couldn't stand."

"Yes. Yes, it is."

"Any way I can speed this process along?"

"Seems like you're still in the denial stage."

"So I have to angry next?"

"Not necessarily. You could get depressed."

"Been there and done that."

"_More_ depressed, then."

"I don't think that's even possible."

"What you need is some kind of closure, some way to end that particular chapter of your life, so you can move on."

"..."

"I take it you never visited his grave like I suggested."

"..."

"Why not?"

"..."

"What would you want to tell him, if you could?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"I guess…I'd want to know why he said and did a lot of things."

"Like which things?"

"..."

"What else?"

"I'd want to say that I was sorry...for being such a pain in the ass

"How do you think you were a pain in the ass?"

"I don't know."

"You obviously said it for a reason. From what you've told me, you were difficult. But I don't think that your behavior was bad enough that you should feel guilty about it."

"You don't know what kind of kid I was."

"Then tell me."

"I've been thinking about it a lot."

"Okay."

"..."

"What did you do that was so horrible?"

"A lot of things."

"Such as?"

"It was my mouth mostly. I could never...seem to shut it, even when it was in my best interest."

"You have a history of saying things without thinking and then regretting them later on. Did that begin early in your life?"

"..."

"What did you say?"

"I don't know."

"I think you brought it up for a reason."

"..."

"I'd want to take it back."

"Take what back?"

"…"

"Greg, it's okay."

"It's not. You keep saying that. But really, it's not. _Everything_ can't be okay. Some things...really aren't okay."

"What happened?"

"The summer he ignored me…I said some things that I shouldn't have."

"What did you say?"

"…"

"You were just a child, Greg."

"I was twelve. I wasn't a...baby."

"Still a child."

"I told him he wasn't my real father. I told him…how I'd figured it out."

"You shared that with me already. Did you forget?"

"I didn't tell you the rest."

"What did you say?"

"I said that I was glad he wasn't my real father, because...he was a murderer."

"You're referring to the people he killed in Vietnam?"

"Yeah. And I told him that I didn't love him, that my mom didn't love him either and that I understood why she would want to cheat on him."

"Why?"

"Because he'd killed women and children."

"How did he react to this?"

"He didn't."

"He didn't say anything?"

"He looked...scared. I think that was the only time I ever saw him look scared."

"Where were you when you said this?"

"My room."

"He came to you?"

"He came into my room to punish me for...something."

"Punish you how?"

"He had his belt in hand, ready to use and then he just backed out of the room and didn't speak to me for nine weeks."

"He left without saying or doing anything at all?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember what you did?"

"I broke the bathroom mirror."

"How did you do that?"

"…"

"Was it an accident?"

"Not...exactly."

"How did you break it?"

"With my fist."

"You smashed the mirror with your fist?"

"…"

"Were you hurt?"

"Surprisingly no. Just a few small cuts on my knuckles. I think it was a cheap mirror."

"Had you ever done anything like that before?"

"Yes."

"Were you a violent child?"

"No."

"Sounds like you're not completely sure."

"I was just...impatient and easily frustrated."

"Both are precursors to violence, and perfectly understandable. You were in a frustrating environment."

"..."

"What else have you broken?"

"Just...random things. I smashed the radio once, threw some rocks at windows on an abandoned building."

"Why did you break the mirror?"

"I guess I was angry."

"You're not sure?"

"Yeah, I was angry."

"About what?"

"Something trivial...something definitely not worth breaking a mirror over."

"That's probably true. But I doubt that it was genuinely trivial."

"He was trying to teach me how to fight."

"Your father."

"Yes."

"Why would he do that?"

"Something happened at school?"

"What happened."

"I got beat up...not really even _beat up_. I just socked in the jaw and kicked in the groin."

"By whom?"

"This...older guy."

"A bully?"

"..."

"Did he specifically single you out?"

"Not really. He was making his way through everyone. I knew he'd get to me eventually."

"Was he bigger than you?"

"Much."

"How did your father try to teach you to fight?"

"We were sparring. He kept lightly punching my shoulders and chest, trying to egg me on, trying to get me to hit him. But I wouldn't."

"You didn't _want_ to hit him?"

"I wanted to. I just...wouldn't."

"And he assumed the reason was that you were unable to."

"He kept saying how I couldn't even throw _one lousy punch_."

"So you proved him wrong by beating on an inanimate object instead."

"..."

"The idea of punching someone else bothers you."

"..."

"I noticed you were also bothered by the idea of punching your colleage, Dr. Chase. Why?"

"Because it would have made me a hypocrite."

"You couldn't very well criticize your father for being violent then."

"Exactly."

"Do you think that's why he might have been egging you on?"

"Maybe."

"How did he react to you breaking the mirror?"

"He came running, saw the mess in the sink. I ran to my room, of course. He took off his belt and came after me."

"Why do you think this bothers you so much?"

"Because…it wasn't necessary to tell him that."

"You obviously felt that it was necessary, at the time."

"I was just a kid."

"Precisely my point."

"..."

"Why do you think you said it?"

"I panicked."

"How so?"

"I'd done something stupid. When I realized I was going to be punished, I panicked and tried to get out of it any way I could."

"This is why you feel guilty for crying. This is why you feel guilty for never having told him that you loved him."

"..."

"You think you were being manipulative. You're ashamed that you didn't just surrender and accept your punishment, because you knew deep down it probably wasn't going to be that bad. And even if it was, it would be very temporary. But you were still unwilling to give up."

"..."

"Don't you think he might have known that? Don't you think he was aware of the deeper meaning behind your stubbornness?"

"I seriously doubt it."

"Why?"

"I just do."

"That's not a good reason, Greg."

"Well, it's my reason."

"Okay."

"..."

"Maybe you're not ready to believe that he understood you. Maybe that's just too painful."

"..."

"What did your mother say about this?"

"I don't think he ever told her what happened."

"Why would you think that?"

"She didn't seem to even notice my dad wasn't speaking to me until three or four days had passed."

"She made no attempt to intervene?"

"I assume she realized it was pointless to get involved."

"Meaning what?"

"She would talk to us. But she wouldn't communicate _for_ either of us."

"So she refused to enable you."

"Yeah, but she didn't go out of her way to help resolve the conflict either."

"What did she say about the mirror?"

"That I had to pay for a new one."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I had some money saved for a guitar and ended up spending it on that."

"I wonder if this might have anything to do with why your father reacted so adversely to you voicing an opinion about Vietnam at the dinner table."

"..."

"You think those two events are related?"

"I'm sure they are."

"I'm sure your father knew that you loved him, Greg."

"..."

"But you obviously don't."

"..."

"So I think you should tell him now."

_"What?"_

"I want you to write a letter to your father."

"You want me to write a letter to someone who is no longer living? Where do I send it, the cemetery?"

"I think it would help you. You admitted that visiting Amber's grave and writing the letter to Kutner's parents were both...helpful."

"..."

"Weren't they?"

"I don't know."

"You said before that the Kutners responded well to the letter."

"They did."

"But..."

"But I still haven't taken the them up on their dinner invitation."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe you feel like they have some sort of expectations of you."

"..."

"You mentioned that you thought they were mistaken about your character...that perhaps you would be a disappointment."

"Yeah."

"But they've seen you at your worst, Greg. And they obviously know _who_ you are."

"They know who their son thought I was."

"You think he was wrong?"

"I think...he was an idealist."

"Apparently not. Idealists don't kill themselves, especially not so early on in life."

"They do when reality hits."

"You think that's why Dr. Kutner killed himself...reality hit?"

"Eh..."

"What's on your mind, Greg?"

"A couple weeks before I was admitted, there was this kid…this college kid, Indian…total computer nerd. You know the type....has the blueprints to the Milennium Falcon on the inside of his closet door, went to space camp, was probably president of the chess club at his high school. He was sitting on one of the couches outside of the imaging labs, waiting to get an ultrasound of his spleen. I just…watched him. I completely lost track of time. For a whole hour, I just watched him."

"And he reminded you of Dr. Kutner."

"I know this is going to sound stupid, especially since I'm a doctor. But I mean…until this last year, I never actually knew anyone who had died. Not really. Not someone I knew more than casually, or someone I was…around on a regular basis."

"That's not stupid at all. Amber and your father you had issues with, unresolved anger. Made it easier to dismiss your grief. But Dr. Kutner…there wasn't anything about him that you disliked."

"I'd be watching television and thinking…I should tell Kutner about that."

"What sort of things would make you think of him?"

"Nothing profound. Silly…inane, pointless…"

"I doubt they were pointless."

"It just doesn't add up…he was young, healthy, smart, nice, _decent_."

"You think young, healthy, smart, decent, nice people can't be in pain?"

"That's just it. He wasn't."

"Just because you couldn't see it, doesn't mean it wasn't there. You're not God. You're not omnipotent."

"I see things. I _always_ see things."

"You're human. You're not all powerful."

"But...he could have done whatever he wanted."

"He did do whatever he wanted. He wanted to die."

"..."

"You don't want to believe it. Because you know what it's like to want to die. Because you think that if life is hard for him, then you don't stand a chance, that you'll never feel better, that you'll end up just like him."

"I don't want to...die."

"But you don't want to live either. You've implied that on numerous occasions."

"Yes."

"Yes…yes, what?"

"Yes, I blame myself."

"For Dr. Kutner's death?"

"…"

"Why?"

"That's just it. I don't know. There's no…logic. I mean I know there's nothing I could have done. He probably wouldn't have come to me for help and I probably would have mocked him or blown him off if he had. But I can't help thinking…people are looking at me and thinking it's my fault. When I was talking to his parents…I was thinking any minute now, they're going to start listing off all the things their son told them about me and then accuse me of driving him to suicide. I just wanted to beat them to it."

"Do you think maybe it's possible that you're just projecting your feelings about Amber's death onto Dr. Kutner? Because that _was_ indirectly your fault. I imagine you had similar feelings about it, perhaps even fearing that people would judge you based on that. Yet because of your anger towards Amber and the nature of your feelings for James, you can't own them. You can't allow yourself to grieve her, or to openly regret her death."

"No."

"And his parents have indicated that they understand why you said that, even going so far as to unconditionally forgive you for it."

"..."

"Have you acknowledged that forgiveness?"

"..."

"Perhaps that's why you're reluctant to accept their invitation. That means you'll have to accept their forgiveness as well. You'll have to accept that they know who you really are and they like you anyway."

"I think I know why he did it."

"Are you just deflecting?"

"No."

"..."

"Yes. But...listen."

"Okay, why?"

"It's so easy…to tell yourself that you'll just…take it in stride, that you won't let it stop you, that you like it. You like being different, special, weird. You keep going, because you're convinced you can outrun it, that if you keep moving, it won't catch you. Then you realize, you've never really been free. You're always going to be on the outside, looking in. You're always going to be watching other people live, knowing you can never have what they have. At the end of the day, no one is ever going to want to come home to you, and even if they do…whatever chances you might have had of being happy, died the minute you took your first breath. Then one day, you're just tired of being alive. You just can't do it anymore."

"And this is how _you_ feel."

"No."

"The way you phrased it kind of implies that it is."

"I'm fine."

"Your behavior this morning suggests otherwise."

"..."

"When did you come to this particular conclusion?"

"Earlier today."

"When you were drinking."

"..."

"And what do you think led to this particular…epiphany, besides alcohol consumption?"

"I don't know."

"I'm curious about this sudden change in perspective. _Is_ it a change in perspective?"

"You're the one who wanted me to look at things differently."

"Okay…that's true. However, I'd still like to know…"

"What good does it do to be smart, if no one can stand to be around you?"

"You think the solution is to stop being smart?"

"..."

"I'm not even sure that's biologically possible, unless you plan to selectively injure the portion of your brain that would facilitate that particular agenda…and while that sounds like something you might actually try, I think it would be best for us to examine what led to this particular realization before rearranging your gray matter."

"No…I mean, what I do…it's not that special."

"I believe that you are incredibly special."

"Despite what people might think, diagnosing patients isn't rocket science."

"I didn't say _your job_. I said _you_. You are not your job."

"But…what other reason does anyone have to want me around?"

"Greg…no. This is…no."

"I don't know how to…_do_ anything else."

"No. No, that is absolutely not true."

"I have no redeeming qualities. It makes sense that people wouldn't like me."

"That's a lie and you need to stop believing it."

"It's not a lie. Just because we'd rather not consider something, doesn't make it a lie."

"You're afraid of something. This is fear talking. Is it Friday night? Does this have something to do with James?"

"No."

"You're afraid."

"No, I'm not."

"You're afraid of hope."

"..."

"You're getting close to getting something that you've really wanted for a long time. It's making you hopeful and that kind of hopefulness reminds you of Dr. Kutner. And that reminds you that hope can end badly."

"I'm not going to kill myself if Wilson isn't interested in me."

"You think I'm okay with you being miserable, as long as you're still alive?"

"..."

"I care about the quality of your life. You told me that your goal was to be happy. I want to help you achieve that."

"What if he says _no_?"

"What if he says _yes_?"

"..."

"What if he says he loves you and wants to spend the rest of his life with you and you have years of fabulous, mind blowing sex?"

"..."

"That's funny?"

"Coming out of your mouth...yeah, it's a little weird."

"Greg, you've got to give life a chance."

"I'm not sure that I know how to do that."

"Start by not assuming that whatever happened between you and James was meaningless."

"What if it was?"

"Then cross that bridge when you come to it. Until then, revel in the fact that it might have meant something. Enjoy that feeling."

"And when it's gone?"

"Again...stop assuming it will go wrong. _Prepare_ for the worst, but_ hope_ for the best."

"Easier said than done."

"Why don't we worry about nursing this hangover first. Then we'll concern ourselves with the rest of your life."

"..."

"Greg?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay."

* * *

_Stipe, Michael. "World Leader Pretend." Green. Warner Bros. Records. 1988._


	19. Lucky Strike

_Random conversation between House and Nolan_

**

* * *

**

**Lucky Strike**

"I've been thinking about my dad a lot."

"I'm glad to hear it. In what sense?"

"I...smoke."

"I noticed. Did your father smoke?"

"Not that I know of."

"So...how is your smoking relevant to your father?"

"I'm fifty years old…and I still can't light up without looking around for him. It doesn't matter where I am."

"Hmm...paranoia?"

"No...it's not like that. Well, I guess it kind of is."

"You obviously know that he's dead."

"Yeah."

"Just making sure."

"But it's like…he's watching me."

"How so?"

"That's lame, right."

"No, not at all."

"I know he's dead. I feel like…he's there. I mean, not physically…Every time I light a cigarette, I swear he's going to pop up and yell at me to put it out."

"That's completely normal, Greg. I think we all feel that way about our parents, to some extent."

"Oh…good."

"The smoking however…is not so good."

"Once vice at a time, doc."

"But you _are_ planning on quitting."

"Eventually. I thought I'd wait for the tracheotomy. There's nothing cooler than inhaling carbon monoxide through a hole in your throat."

"How do you plan to quit?"

"I haven't really thought about it."

"They have new electronic cigarettes."

"Yeah. That's like drinking non-alcoholic beer or eating a tofu burger. You might as well not bother."

"Could try you on the gum."

"I hate chewing gum."

"I think they also have a hard candy now."

"Nicorette should make lollipops."

"How about a patch?"

"I don't think that will work."

"Why?"

"I'm just...the first time I smoked I was eight years old."

"I thought you said you were nine."

"Did I?"

"You told me that your mother caught you smoking, while you were living with your grandparents, and asked your grandfather to punish you."

"Oh...she did. But that was the second time I'd tried it."

"So you'd smoked before, at age eight."

"It was Memorial Day weekend, 1967. My mother was in the yard, barbequing burgers and dogs. My dad was out back with some friends."

"And you just lit up?"

"No. See...I was the only kid there. When I was a kid, I was far more interested in adults than my own peers."

"That doesn't surprise me, considering your personality. But…why do _you _think that is?"

"Children were far too cautious...whiny, fearful and prone to crying unpredictably. Usually that led to trouble, especially when I was the one causing the crying. But _that _day, the yard was littered with people in all stages of adulthood, which had endless entertainment potential."

"Do tell."

"This one friend of my dad's friends abandoned a cigarette in an ashtray, and I'd been watching him from a distance. I closed in on it like it was some kind of smoldering treasure. It was a non-filtered Lucky Strike…which I'd decided at the time was pretty much the most manly cigarette a person could possibly hope to smoke."

"And you wanted to be manly?"

"My dad was a US Marine. So…yes. The manlier the better."

"But you said your dad didn't smoke."

"He didn't."

"I'm just trying to understand your logic."

"I was eight. I _had_ no logic."

"Interesting. So what happened?"

"I sucked on it once and almost hacked up a lung."

"Did anyone notice?"

"One of my dad's other friends figured out why I was coughing. Although he was much more amused than my father, who was royally pissed. I think he was actually more pissed that other people were there to witness it."

"What did he do?"

"Took me inside."

"And did what?"

"Let's just say I spent twenty minutes gargling mouthwash and rinsing the Ivory soap out of my mouth."

"Ugh. Why so long?"

"My dad used a very special technique."

"Which was?"

"He'd…rub it back and forth across my teeth and tongue."

"Ah, yeah. So did mine."

"..."

"I guess that's the only way to make sure you really taste it."

"_You_ got your mouth washed out with soap? For what?"

"Spitting on my sisters."

"..."

"More than once. I was slow to learn from such things."

"We should form a club."

"So I take it your dad wasn't too pleased."

"No. Although I can't help wondering if ingesting actual flakes of soap might be worse for me than the cigarettes themselves. But the experience was severe enough to deter my curiosity, for another year at least."

"Until you were living with your grandparents."

"Yes."

"What about after that?"

"When I was eleven, this older kid from school invited me over to his house. He was thirteen and very cool and I was...desperate not to alienate him."

"What did you do together?"

"We started out by lifting candy and sodas at the drugstore and ended up sneaking into this movie theater to watch Midnight Cowboy."

"Sounds like a blast. So you smoked after the movie?"

"Well, we went back to his place. His parents both worked. So neither of them were home. He ordered a pizza and gave me some cheap, malt from his dad's liquor cabinet."

"You drank it?"

"I sipped it. Tasted awful."

"Had you ever had alcohol before then?"

"No."

"Do you remember what it was?"

"I think it was Schlitz."

"Sounds like he was a great influence."

"His name was Dennis, oddly enough. My mother called him _Dennis The Menace_."

"How did you end up smoking?"

"He snuck cigarettes out of his mom's room, same place where he got the money for the pizza. They were Dorals, which I only remember because they were brand new at the time. The sad thing was...I took one look at them and all I could think of was the taste of soap."

"That's not sad at all. I imagine it was sort of the point of the punishment."

"Yeah."

"Did that stop you?"

"For about five minutes. Like I said, I was desperate not to alienate this kid, and he was goading me. So...I ended up coming home two hours late, smelling like smoke and cheap beer."

"You must have been busted."

"It was my mom that figured it out, believe it or not. She wasn't that concerned that I was late. But she definitely noticed that something was up. My dad was preoccupied. I think that's about the time they started regularly televising sporting events. But I tripped several times coming through the door, and I must have been positively green. I thought I was going to puke."

"You didn't?"

"Not until the next day. Which is impressive, considering how much pizza I'd eaten. And my dad decided soap wasn't the way to go, since I apparently hadn't learned anything the last time. But he didn't want to punish me until he'd sobered me up first. So he made me drink two cups of black coffee before taking me to the basement to paddle me. I was so hopped up on caffeine, my ass was numb. I don't think I felt a damn thing."

"That's a lot of coffee for an eleven year old kid."

"I was awake for forty-eight hours. I ended up calling in sick for school and spending the next morning in front of the toilet. That was the only time I ever heard my mom scolding my dad for something. Unfortunately I was too sick to appreciate it."

"Sounds like you're appreciating it now."

"Yeah."

"But you obviously smoked again."

"Ah...yes. The third time my dad actually caught me, I'd already been smoking for a while. I was fourteen. He'd been away for a few months. His solution was to sit me down and force me to smoke the entire pack at once. Which totally backfired on him, since by then I was already a card carrying chain smoker."

"What did he do when he realized his solution was a waste?"

"He made me move this huge pile of bricks."

"Bricks?"

"These neighbors of ours demolished the wall around their house, so they could build a wooden fence instead. They gave my parents all the bricks, so they could build a walkway. No idea why they'd waste their time doing that, when we were going to move again in less than a year."

"So you had to move the bricks from your neighbor's yard to your own?"

"Yeah, but I could only use my hands, no gloves or wagon or wheelbarrow."

"How long did it take?"

"About three hours. The eye rolling and muttering under my breath kind of slowed me down, I think."

"Did you smoke all the way through high school?"

"No, I quit after that...started up again when I went to college. I boarded during undergrad, with a scholarship. Kind of had this epiphany one day that my father wasn't around to tell me what to do anymore. And I was eighteen years old. I went out and bought a pack."

"And you were paranoid."

"Like I said, I just kept expecting him to pop up and tell me to put it out."

"You smoked all the way through college?"

"All the way through grad school and off and on since then."

"Weren't you an athlete?"

"I was. I'd usually quit everything during lacrosse and track season. I only ran track two years, because you had to drug test for each meet. The rest of the time...I smoked, drank, did pot, LSD, coke and heroin. It's amazing what you can get away with when you're young."

"I thought you said you drug use was exclusively for your leg."

"I did."

"Um...yes."

"I must have lied."

"..."

"I've been known to do that."

"So you're admitting that it may have been...recreational."

"I would have thought that was fairly obvious by now."

"The fact that you're willing to openly address that is a very significant part of recovery."

"..."

"How long do you think you've been an addict?"

"My whole life probably. I think I was born that way. Anything I did...I never did anything halfway. Everything was an obsession."

"But you're not going to die an addict."

"No, I don't think I will."

"Glad to hear it."

"I think...I'm done smoking."

"You want to try the patch or the gum?"

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"Why now?"

"My father wouldn't approve."

"But he's not here. You're a grown man. You can make your own decisions."

"Hey, do you want me to quit or not? Does it really matter why?"

"Of course I want you to quit. I'm just trying to understand your reasoning. It definitely matters why. If you're doing this just for him, it will eventually backfire."

"It's not _just_ for him."

"Okay."

"..."

"What's funny?"

"I don't know."

"But you're smiling. Something must be amusing you."

"I honestly...don't know."

"Tell me what you're feeling."

"I can tell you what I'm_ not_ feeling."

"Okay."

"I know this sounds...odd. But I'm...not angry anymore."

"That's good. And no, it's not odd."

"And I just realized that when the anger's gone...there's nothing left but...you know."

"No, I don't know."

"_Good_ things."

"..."

"And I want to do something for him...without muttering under my breath, or dragging my feet, or rolling my eyes. I just want to do it because it's right."

"He placed a lot of value on that huh...Doing the right thing?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds like you do too."

"I guess."

"I'm sure he'd be proud, Greg."

"You know what? I think maybe he would."


	20. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 14

_This story is slash. Just making sure we're clear on that. If the idea of House and Wilson together bothers you, stop reading._

_House talks to Nolan about Wilson and their living situation._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"So…you're all settled into your new place."

"Yep."

"And how is that?"

"Uh...fine?"

"And how's the new commute?"

"It's actually closer to the hospital...by half a mile, at least for me. It's about the same for Wilson."

"That good."

"You seriously want to talk about my commute?"

"I'd actually like us to talk about some of the things we discussed last week."

"We didn't have a session last week."

"But we _did_ talk."

"Yeah...on my bathroom floor."

"But we still talked."

"I thought you said you weren't taking any notes."

"That doesn't mean I don't remember what we spoke about."

"You totally jotted a bunch of things down, as soon as you got back into your car. Didn't you?"

"I have an excellent short term memory."

"What you _have_ is a problem."

"My patients are very important to me."

"And people think _I'm_ obsessed. Maybe you should find a twelve step program for overzealous therapists."

"I'll be sure to look into that."

"I'll bet."

"I just wanted to make sure we readdressed some of the things we touched on."

"Like what?"

"For starters…have you spoken to James at all about the sleeping arrangements?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"We were busy with the move...and honestly, it didn't come up."

"Have you two slept in the same bed since I saw you on Sunday?"

"Nope. We've barely slept at all."

"I see."

"So…you were wrong. _No time for love, Dr. Jones_."

"Not necessarily. Has he exhibited any other unusual behavior, since we spoke last?"

"Well...sort of."

"In what sense?"

"This is going to sound weird."

"You know, Greg…you say that an awful lot and it's almost never true."

"Okay…this is going to sound mundane and predictable. It's probably happened to you a million times before. How's that?"

"Much better.

"I was in the shower this morning, and he came in."

"Into the shower?"

"Yes, he _stepped into the shower_."

"..."

"_No_...he came into the bathroom."

"It was a reasonable question."

"..."

"What did he come into the bathroom for?"

"Just to pee."

"You mean he used the toilet while you were in the shower."

"Yes."

"Sitting or standing?"

"Wilson doesn't _sit_ to pee."

"How do you know?"

"I just_ know_."

"This happened just the once?"

"No. He's done that about five times now."

"Since you moved into the new place?"

"Yeah."

"Has he ever done that before?"

"Sure."

"Then...why is this eliciting concern?"

"Well...that was at my apartment. The new place has two bathrooms."

"One for each of you, or one main one and one for guests?"

"One for each of us."

"Ah. Would have made more sense for him to use his own bathroom then."

"Exactly. And his definitely smells better. It even has potpourri."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"It doesn't?"

"Nineteen years old and James was all over the dorm with a can of floral air freshener."

"Wow."

"During the holidays he used pine scent."

"He's Jewish."

"Making it all the more amusing."

"..."

"He actually used so much once, that he broke out in hives."

"You got pictures?"

"Sadly no."

"I can only imagine what life would have been like for him if they'd had Febreeze back then."

"Or those clorox wipes."

"Or liquid hand sanitizer."

"So...did you ask why he was using your restroom?"

"No."

"It sounds like something was different about this morning, though. What was it?"

"He was about halfway done with his business and he...started talking to me."

"_While_ he was peeing?"

"Yeah."

"Did you talk back?"

"Well...sure. It would be kind of strange not to answer."

"What did he say?"

"He was telling me about a patient with a glioblastoma who had completed their chemo and radiation and gone into spontaneous remission."

"So he was sharing good news with you."

"I guess."

"Has he ever done that before today?"

"Shared good news?"

"No, spoken to you while he was using the toilet."

"Sure. We've peed next to each other a million times. We've done complete differentials in the men's room...women's room too, now that I think about it."

"You've...peed in the ladies room?"

"Well, I have. Wilson was too chicken."

"I see. So what was different about this particular exchange?"

"I don't know."

"It wasn't out of necessity. He _chose_ to use that restroom, because you were in there. And you were naked, in the shower and he was peeing and you were holding on a totally casual conversation."

"Yeah."

"And you want to know what I think about that."

"That's why I pay you the big bucks."

"I think…that if I didn't know any better, you two had been married for thirty years."

"Oh, for the love of God..."

"What?"

"Are you going to take this seriously?"

"I _am_ taking it seriously. You two remind me of my parents."

"Right."

"You can't buy that level of comfort with another human being. Some people will go their whole lives and never find what you two have."

"I think you're biased."

"Are you comfortable with him?"

"Sure."

"How comfortable?"

"I don't know. How do you measure something like that?"

"What would you do if he took off all of his clothes and stepped into the shower?"

"Why the hell would you ask me that?"

"I'm just curious."

"It would depend on why he was doing it, I guess. I mean, if he were on fire, it would be pretty selfish of me to hog all the water. Of course, he could always use his own bathroom. Unless the potpourri was flammable, which it probably is..."

"Wow, you're really afraid to think about this."

"..."

"I'm just trying to figure out how obvious a clue he'd have to drop before you'd respond in kind."

"You don't know that he even _wants_ to do that, or anything like it."

"And you don't know that he doesn't."

"..."

"He climbed into your bed."

"_His_ bed."

"Whatever. He made a choice and it involved sleeping next to you. Why are you having so much trouble with the idea that it might have meant something?"

"You think I should just...invite him in next time? Next time he walks into the bathroom and I'm in the shower, I should just say _hey could you wash my back? I can't reach it. And don't forget the rubber ducky."_

"Would you be willing to take that kind of risk?"

"I suppose that would depend on how badly my back needed washed."

"You could always play it off as a joke."

"See this is why it sucks that I don't drink anymore. Before I could have gotten away with all kinds of crap and just blamed it on the booze."

"But this way, if anything happens, you'll actually remember it the next morning."

"Yeah...that was kind of my point."

"Why are you so intent on pretending that you don't want this? It's fairly obvious that you do."

"Nothing's...obvious. You've seen nothing. _You know_ _nothing_."

"Hogan's Heroes...nice."

"..."

"Okay...two middle-aged, heterosexual men are leasing a condo and picking out furniture together. That's not even including what you just told me about the potpourri and the toilet. Yeah...nothing can be extrapolated from that."

"Oh brother."

"Do you carpool?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Is that a yes?"

"It saves on gas."

"Are either of you hurting for money?"

"Maybe I care about the environment."

"..."

"Okay...Wilson cares about the environment. I'm just lazy."

"So those are big things. What about all the little things?"

"What _about_ all the little things?"

"When I came to see you in the hospital, after you'd overdosed on your antidepressants, James brought you dinner in his office."

"Yeah."

"It was -if I'm not mistaken- half a Reuben with potato salad."

"Your point being..."

"You didn't even have to ask for it or tell him what it was you wanted. He knew exactly what you wanted and when you would want it."

"So?"

"_Then_ you stubbornly refused to eat until he tasted the potato salad and told you if it had _too much_ mustard in it."

"So what?"

"So that implies two things. One...you trust him to feed you, and two...he knows exactly how much mustard you like in your potato salad."

"Again...so?"

"And that's not even the most notable thing."

"What's the _most notable_ thing?"

"Then you proceeded to eat the food off the same fork he'd just used."

"..."

"..."

"Did I?"

"You don't remember?"

"It's not like he was going to run and get another fork."

"He could have washed it."

"A plastic fork? Now _that_ would have been stupid."

"So...you share utensils with all your friends?"

"No..."

"Do you have that level of comfort with any other human being?"

"He's my best friend. You don't have a best friend?"

"My wife and I don't even share utensils. My kids and I never shared utensils, at least not that I remember."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You're missing out on some really cool bacteria."

"You really don't think that means anything?"

"I've never really thought about it."

"How long have you been trusting him to _feed _you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"How long have you trusted him to either pay for or prepare the food that you eat?"

"I don't know...since the day we met? I like food."

"I think you like _him_."

"Did Stacy cook for you?"

"Not...really. She wasn't very domestic."

"The reason I mention it is because...my mother was very particular about her food. My dad did a lot of the cooking, and she would often ask him to taste things before she would be willing to eat them."

"Ah...so this is _all _about you. Projecting much?"

"Okay, you're right. That _was_ projection. But I can't help thinking there's some merit to the theory that you two are sort of like...a couple."

"..."

"Have you ever seen him completely naked? I don't just mean parts. I mean completely and totally naked."

"Yeah, sure. But I don't see how that's...relevant to...whatever."

"Hmm."

"Shut up."

"And now you're blushing."

"No...yes. No. Well, it's an involuntary response to a stupid question."

"How is it stupid?"

"..."

"..."

"Yes -if you must know- I have seen him _completely_ naked."

"In what context?"

"We used to play tennis and basketball at this club...back before I had the infarction."

"How long did you do that for?"

"I don't know...four years, maybe five? We used to golf too...different club though. And we'd play softball with a local league."

"And you'd see him when he was getting changed?"

"No..."

"You'd see him getting into the shower?"

"No..."

"Explain."

"Sometimes at this one club, we'd...shower together."

"Uh huh."

"A lot of guys there did. There weren't enough showers. Really, it was a plumbing issue...poor architectural planning. The women's locker room had plenty of showers. It was completely sexist."

"And you're rambling."

"Am not."

"You don't have to be nervous to discuss this."

"I'm _not_ nervous about anything."

"Then why are you rambling?"

"..."

"Why not shower with someone else?"

"I did a few times, actually. So there."

"I see. But mostly you showered with James."

"Yes. If you insist. He was my _shower buddy_."

"..."

"And besides that, he saw me naked plenty after the infarction."

"How so?"

"Right after I came home, Stacy was pretty helpful at first. But I eventually drove her away and I was still working on becoming...mobile."

"How long after the surgery did you split up?"

"About five weeks."

"That must have been very difficult."

"It wasn't one of the brighter moments in my life."

"So James would come over and help you?"

"He practically moved in, although I doubt Bonnie -his wife at the time- knew it. He slept on the couch and used the empty closet, and stocked the fridge...did all the cooking. He would tell her that he was working, most of the time. Sometimes she would call for him and I would lie and say he wasn't there."

"How exactly did he help you, besides doing the shopping and the cooking?"

"He'd get me dressed and in and out of the tub and take me to the toilet..."

"Until you could do those things for yourself."

"Yeah."

"How long before you could do those things without any assistance at all?"

"About nine or ten months."

"So I imagine that much have been a turning point in your relationship, as far as your level of comfort with one another."

"Not really."

"Not really?"

"I just mean, I think it was slightly before that."

"When?"

"For the first few weeks after I came home, I still had a catheter. Stacy refused to touch it."

"Why?"

"I think she was already wracked with guilt...she was too afraid of causing me physical pain. Or _more_ physical pain...or giving me an infection, or God knows what else."

"So James changed it for you?"

"Yeah."

"Wow. That must have been strange."

"No...it really wasn't. I think it would have been more strange if she'd done it."

"I think that was kind of my point."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that it's not strange to have him touching you in an intimate way. You trust him. You trust that he cares. You have no reason to doubt his intentions."

"I have _some_ reasons."

"Okay. You have reasons to doubt everyone's intentions...but not that many to doubt his, compared to all the other people in your life."

"..."

"Is Bonnie the one you imagined James performing oral sex on?"

"Yes, oodles of thanks for the reminder."

"Do you think the role she played in your recovery might possibly be relevant to why you might picture her as James' default, female counterpart?"

"It's possible."

"Do you resent her?"

"Not really. But she sure as hell resents me."

"How do you know?"

"She told me."

"When."

"A few years ago."

"How many is a few?"

"Um...three maybe?"

"And how did she go about communicating that to you?"

"Now _that's_ a long story."

"Well, we have plenty of time."

"It's not very interesting."

"I'll bet it is."

"Wilson was paying alimony for the longest time, on his first and second wives. Especially since one of them was a physician."

"Not on his third?"

"Their divorce was still pending at the time, and she was well employed."

"What does she do?"

"She works in real estate...ironically."

"Why is that ironic?"

"Bonnie came to the hospital to let Wilson know that she was getting her realtor's license and would no longer require alimony. But she was moving into a condo and wanted him to take her dog."

"She couldn't keep the dog in the condo?"

"No."

"That's a strange request to make of an ex."

"Wilson said the dog was like their child."

"Ah, so they acquired him together."

"Yeah. On their honeymoon."

"That makes more sense, then."

"Around that same time, Wilson was rebounding from his third divorce and decided to ask Cuddy on a date."

"She's his boss as well, correct?"

"Yes."

"Ballsy of him."

"She was apparently looking for a friend and not...whatever he was looking for. Despite that, I had a feeling he was going to jump in the sack with her and be engaged by the end of the week."

"Is that what he did with his wives?"

"From what I understand."

"So you naturally wanted to stop him from making that mistake again."

"Out of the kindness of my heart."

"Of course."

"Anyway...I thought it would be amusing to send Wilson flowers and make them think they were from Cuddy."

"What purpose would that serve?"

"Because it would be the fastest way to find out just how serious he was about dating her."

"So you were doing it in the interest of time. The faster you could figure out how he felt about her, the faster you could nip their potential relationship in the bud."

"Exactly."

"How did he react to the flowers?"

"He freaked out at first."

"In what sense?"

"Wilson doesn't like ambiguity. The note was fairly ambiguous...intentionally so."

"What did it say?"

"Something like..._it was fun. Let's do it again soon_."

"Who wrote the note?"

"I did."

"But you signed her name."

"Correct."

"First or last?"

"First."

"Didn't he recognize your writing?"

"I ...disguised it."

"So...under the assumption that the flowers really were from Dr. Cuddy, and that she'd signed a card with her first name, he was lost as to what the appropriate response would be."

"Exactly. But then he was kind of flattered by the gesture and considered pursuing her...temporarily."

"How temporarily?"

"For about thirty seconds. Then he realized it would be a mistake."

"How did he realize that?"

"He somehow figured out that I'd sent the flowers and ultimately did nothing."

"_Did nothing_. You mean with Dr. Cuddy?"

"Correct."

"Did he go out with her again?"

"They went out twice, to a play and an art exhibit...not counting their date two years earlier."

"They dated before?"

"No...she just took him out to dinner."

"Sounds like a date to me."

"She was just planning to ask him for a sperm donation."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"So it was strictly business."

"..."

"Did she ask you for a sperm donation?"

"No."

"Did that offend you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It just didn't. Besides that, she asked me to review all the files of her potential donors...figure out which one was genetically superior."

"So she trusted you to do that."

"Apparently."

"You said she eventually adopted. So I take it she wasn't satisfied with the selection of sperm?"

"She was. She tried about six times, that I know of. She miscarried four times and the others didn't take."

"Ah."

"And I think she actually _was_ going to ask me for a donation and then chickened out."

"Chickened out how?"

"She came to my office, the night after I'd given her all the fertility shots."

"Wait...you gave her fertility shots? Why would you do that?"

"She asked me to."

"She couldn't do it herself?"

"Apparently not."

"Did she request arm or gluteus?"

"Gluteus."

"Interesting. So she trusted you to do that also."

"Apparently."

"So she came to your office and started to ask you and then just stopped?"

"She didn't come right out and say it. She...alluded to it and then kind of left."

"Would you have given her your sperm if she'd asked for it?"

"I don't think so."

"But you don't know for sure?"

"I...no. I definitely wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"I don't want children."

"Not even if they were raised solely by her?"

"Especially not then."

"Why?"

"She's my boss. We work in the same building. We see each other every day. It would never work."

"So?"

"So...we're not in a relationship and we weren't going to be. If people found out we had an illegitimate child together, it could hurt our professional reputations. Well...hers anyway."

"Yours can sustain the damage, I take it."

"I was a mental patient a few months ago. I have a history of drug addiction. I currently have no medical license, and people are still sending me their referrals. She on the other hand, could lose her position on the board of directors and any percentage of money from potential donors."

"She obviously wasn't too concerned about that, if she was single and pursuing pregnancy to begin with."

"If she had a stranger's baby, it would be a novelty. If she had a friend's baby, it would be gossip."

"That's probably true."

"And that's not even getting into the fact that I'd make a terrible father."

"Hmm...I don't think so."

"Well, I guess we'll never know."

"But...how exactly does Bonnie factor into all of this?"

"Oh...this was all happening around the time she contacted Wilson about Hector."

"Hector?"

"The dog."

"Okay."

"I decided to pretend I was condo shopping, in order to have the opportunity to...poll her about Wilson's dating habits. She showed me a few places."

"So you wasted her time and made her think you were in the market for a home, so you could gossip about her ex."

"Basically."

"No wonder she resented you."

"Wilson told her I was wasting her time and she didn't believe him."

"So you told her."

"Yes."

"Is she not very bright?"

"I...couldn't say. She's not very perceptive. That's for sure."

"But she chose that particular moment to express her anger with you, over what happened after your surgery."

"Yes."

"Did she tell you anything interesting?"

"Lots."

"Like what?"

"Like she fell in love with him before they had sex, that Wilson is great in bed, that Wilson will do anything to please a women. For a minute it seemed almost like she was bragging."

"What did you extrapolate from that?"

"Nothing of note. It was just interesting."

"What happened to the dog?"

"I looked after him for about two weeks. Eventually she won the battle with her homeowner's association and allowed her to take him back in."

"Why would you be the one to take care of him?"

"Wilson was living in a hotel."

"So? You didn't have to help her."

"..."

"Perhaps you felt guilty for hurting her and wanted to do something to make up for it."

"I didn't _hurt_ her."

"But you did something that indirectly caused her pain."

"..."

"I have a hard time believing that your choice to take in the dog was unrelated to your inconveniencing her by preoccupying James with your post-surgical care."

"..."

"Do you ever imagine James with anyone else?"

"Like who?"

"Other men?"

"No."

"Perhaps that would be too great a threat to you."

"..."

"Do you ever picture him with Amber?"

"I've...dreamt about them. But I've never consciously fantasized about them together."

"What did they do in your dreams?"

"Just...make out mostly."

"Did they ever make out in front of you?"

"Unfortunately."

"Why do you think you might be dreaming about that?"

"I don't know. I mean, I know it's fairly obvious by now that I was threatened by their relationship. But I honestly...thought they might be good together. I thought she might make Wilson happy."

"Really."

"I just mean, compared to some of the other women Wilson has been with."

"You thought this relationship had a chance of working."

"Yes."

"You expressed a rather opposite opinion in one of our earlier sessions."

"Oh. Well I was probably lying then."

"Why would you do that?"

"..."

"You didn't trust me yet."

"Sorry."

"That's okay. So you trust me now?"

"Yeah, sure."

"You can tell me the truth?"

"Depends on what it is."

"Can you tell me the truth about James?"

"..."

"No jokes...no subtext and no deflections, just the truth."

"Yeah."

"Yeah...what?"

"Yeah, I can."

"So...how do you really feel about him?"

"I like him."

"How so?"

"See...I don't want you to misunderstand. It has nothing to do with sex."

"Nothing?"

"Well...it kind of does. But it's...complicated."

"It's about more than just the physical. It's emotional and intellectual. I understand."

"You know how they say you can meet someone, and be sure that they're the one you want to spend the rest of your life with?"

"Yeah."

"This is going to sound…bad. But I never felt that way about Stacy, even though we lived together for five years."

"That doesn't sound bad at all."

"Even when I was with her, I wasn't completely happy. I'd never been completely happy, at least not at that point. Maybe I'll never be. I think I settled because I assumed it wasn't possible for me to be completely happy. But I was actually content because I had her…and him. I had them both in my life, as much as I wanted and needed."

"Then she left."

"That's just it. Without her, I was miserable. I was lost and depressed. But it was tolerable because...he was still there."

"And I know you can tell me this from personal experience. But what would you do if you lost _him_?"

"I don't know. I just know that without him -back then- I'd have died. I'd have just given up."

"I think that's beautiful and you should tell him how you feel."

"Yeah, well...I'm kind of scared."

"I know. And that's beautiful too."

"Why?"

"Because it matters."

"..."

"Doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it does."

"The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"I honestly don't know."

"But you are going to do something."

"I kind of have to now."

"You don't _have_ to do anything. I think you want to."

"Of course I_ want_ to."

"You're afraid of rejection."

"Who isn't?"

"..."

"Is that stupid?"

"Not at all."

"..."

"The next time we talk, I want to hear that you've addressed either the sleeping arrangements or the unusual bathroom related behavior."

"Or else what?"

"Or else you will still be very confused and frustrated."

"Fair enough."


	21. Sad

_This is something I wrote when I was considering going in a specific direction with this story. I changed my mind. But I already wrote it. So I'm posting it anyway. Because I have nothing better to do. Consider it AU from the main story._

_WARNING: peripheral character death._

_Conversation between House and Nolan, about Alvie._

* * *

**Sad**

"You're here. Of course you're here. You're like the plague."

"James let me in."

"Don't pretend to be glad to see me. Don't pretend this is a social call."

"I never said it was a social call."

"..."

"How are you?"

"I'm fine. I'm absolutely fan-fucking-tastic."

"Clearly."

"..."

"Why don't we talk about why I _am _here."

"I'm not doing this. You'll have to find another head to shrink today."

"You don't want to talk?"

"..."

"Alright. I'll just sit."

"He was just a kid."

"He was twenty-eight years old."

"A kid."

"He was a grown man."

"He was _a kid_."

"If you say so."

"They needed his dental records to identify him..._dental records_."

"Yeah."

"Who the hell sets themselves on fire? Who the hell does that? Doesn't anyone just hang themselves anymore? How hard is it to go down to the hardware store and buy ten feet of rope?"

"I honestly don't know, Greg. I can't say why he chose that particular method."

"He probably saw it on Myth Busters."

"I don't think this was the result of some kind of experiment gone awry. And it definitely wasn't an accident."

"You don't know that. He didn't leave a note."

"Perhaps he had nothing to say."

"Are you kidding? He couldn't stop talking for five seconds. I'm surprised he even came up for air."

"..."

"I should have called him."

"Why would you have?"

"He gave me his number."

"Doesn't mean you were obligated to use it."

"I _should_ have called him."

"I think you're looking for reasons to feel guilty. Don't."

"I never…I don't think this is my fault. I'm not an idiot. I know it's not. He had issues to begin with. I know he wasn't exactly right in the head. But still…I should have called. I said I would. I said I'd call him. I mean, I was saying that just to shut him up. But I should have called. I should have at least checked on him once. I should have just called to say _hi_."

"Are you in the habit of calling people, just to say _hi_?"

"What do _you_ think?"

"How often have you called your own mother in the past ten years, just to say _hi_?"

"..."

"None of us saw this coming, Greg. When we discharged him, he was doing well. He was voluntarily taking his meds. He was coping. He showed up to all of his follow up appointments, participated in therapy. We had no reason to believe he was in trouble."

"Maybe you're all idiots."

"Maybe we are."

"..."

"Would it help you to be able to blame this on someone? If we can prove that it's my fault, or Dr. Pope's fault, or Dr. Medina's fault, will his death be easier to bear?"

"Just shut up...stop patronizing me."

"His mother said she found his prescription bottles in his room, that he'd missed nearly two weeks worth of pills."

"Nice of her to keep track."

"..."

"He crashed."

"That's what I'm thinking."

"..."

"And he's done that before."

"Yeah, except this time he didn't end up back at Mayfield. He doused himself in gasoline and lit a match and took out half the building."

"No one else was hurt. His mother and sister were both at work. His nephews were at daycare. The firemen got everyone else out in time."

"Wonderful. _So_ relieved that _everyone else_ was fine."

"He's tried to kill himself several times. He's overdosed twice on over the counter medication and camped out on the ledge of his uncle's apartment, until the paramedics talked him down. I caught him trying to suffocate himself with a pillow once."

"Well, by all means you guys should set him loose to do it again, until he gets it right."

"Greg."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, okay? I know it's not your fault."

"I know it too and I know that you don't mean these things that you say."

"…"

"I do want us to deal with this."

"I _am_ dealing with it."

"_How_ are you dealing with it?"

"I don't care."

"Uh, no...I don't believe that."

"No, I mean...I don't care. It won't change anything. I know it's completely self indulgent. I have no reason to be…right now, I just want to be."

"Be...be what?"

"You know."

"No, I _don't_ know."

"..."

"You're angry?"

"No."

"You're...sad?"

"Do I need to actually say it?"

"No. You don't have to say it."

"..."

"That's exactly how you _should_ feel right now. I'm glad you're letting yourself feel sad. It hurts. But it's healthy."

"You mean _this_ is normal?"

"Yes. _This_ is grief. An often confusing sense of loss and potentially overwhelming urge to cry, is grief."

"Well screw normal. Normal sucks."

"It's okay."

"Stop saying that. I swear to God if you say that again, I'm going to deck you."

"Really."

"Sorry."

"..."

"I'm an asshole."

"No, you're not."

"I'm such a dick. No wonder everybody hates me."

"Stop it."

"..."

"I refuse to allow you to talk that way about yourself."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. You are _not_ a dick and everyone does _not_ hate you. James doesn't hate you. I don't hate you and Alvie most definitely didn't hate you."

"Well I guess we'll never know."

"I could list off more people who _don't_ think you're a dick, if you need more proof."

"..."

"You're looking to find some kind of connection between Alvie's death and Kutner's. Because you're the only common denominator and that way it would be your fault."

"I know it's not my fault."

"_Do_ you?"

"I punched him. You know that I punched him, right? I pounded the shit out of him, right there in front of everyone."

"I know, Greg. I was there."

"I enjoyed it."

"You were angry."

"Not at him."

"Does it matter? Anger is anger."

"I punched him so I could get the nurses to give me haldol."

"I know."

"..."

"You're not the first patient to scam the staff for drugs, Greg. It's practically a rite of passage at Mayfield."

"You don't get it. I punched him _for drugs_…to trade with another patient for phone privileges."

"Yes."

"I wanted phone privileges, so I could call Wilson, so I could blackmail you, so I could get you to release me."

"I know that, Greg. I knew exactly what you were up to. That's why I called James in advance and told him not to give you any information."

"..."

"Did you think I didn't know what was going on?"

"He _let_ me. He was like…honored. And I was a sick, opportunistic fuck for taking advantage of him like that."

"I know you have trouble with the idea of inflicting pain on other people, which means you must have been fairly desperate to even hatch such a plan. Just like I know that you must be pretty upset now, to be threatening me with violence."

"I don't give a crap about other people. I didn't give a crap about Alvie and I certainly don't give a crap about you."

"Yes, you did...and you do. I know it. You know it."

"…"

"You felt trapped and wanted to gain control over your situation. You wanted out of the hospital and those are completely normal and okay feelings to have. Your methods were dishonest and unethical. But you were desperate. You were only doing what was easy and familiar. You were only doing what you thought you had to do."

"Well, that makes it okay."

"You've made a lot of progress since then, a lot of personal growth. I don't think you realize that."

"I beat the shit out of him."

"I know. I was there, Greg. I saw the whole thing."

"..."

"You didn't force Alvie to participate. He chose to."

"He _chose_ to, because he has low self esteem. _Had _low self esteem. Now he has _no_ self esteem. He's dead, fucking dead. Oh my God."

"What specifically is bothering you?"

"That's just it. I don't know. I barely knew the kid. He wasn't a relative. He wasn't even my patient. Why the hell do I even care?"

"You slept four feet away from him for over three months."

"So?"

"You formed a bond with him."

"No, I didn't."

"Okay. Assuming that's true, which we both know it's not, you've been in therapy for the past nine months. A lot of your wounds have been torn open so that they can heal, making you emotionally vulnerable. You've learned how to deal with things, instead of running away or shutting down, or drowning yourself in booze and pills. So now you have no choice but to suffer this head on."

"This is just...you don't get it."

"I _do_ get it."

"No, you don't."

"He liked you and wanted you to like him. His participation was motivated by his desire to be liked. How is that wrong?"

"Because I took advantage of it."

"How do you feel, Greg? Tell me what else you're feeling, besides sad."

"Don't. Don't you dare turn this into a _teaching moment_. This is not about us, or me, or _my_ stupid problems."

"That's not what I'm doing. Your problems are not stupid. And this is as much about you and me as it is about anyone."

"Don't worry about me and what I'm feeling. What the hell does it matter? _He's_ the one we should be worried about. But now it's too damn late."

"I worried about him, Greg. I worried about him as much as I could and he still chose to end his own life. I did my job, to the best of my ability. You're still alive and now I'm worried about making sure that you're okay."

"I'm not going to kill myself over this. Is that what you think?_ He's_ the fucking moron. Gasoline. Jesus Christ..."

"So you're angry at him for not choosing a more conventional method of suicide."

"No."

"Then you're angry at him for giving up, without putting up a good fight."

"I'm not angry."

"It sounds like you are."

"He didn't even try."

"He'd been battling a mood disorder for his entire adult life."

"Yeah, how the hell long was that…five minutes?"

"He was twenty-eight. He was diagnosed in the tenth grade. So...a little over twelve years."

"You're saying it's okay?"

"I'm saying that it's not a shock that he'd be willing to kill himself."

"You _knew_ he was going to do this?"

"I knew that he'd be willing to do it, if things got bad enough. My goal was to help him from ever reaching that point. I'm sad to say that I really believed I had succeeded in doing just that. I was obviously wrong."

"You shouldn't have let him go. You shouldn't have discharged him."

"You could be right. This could somehow be my fault, or some other doctor's fault. But even if it is, I will gain nothing by obsessing about it. Obsessing about that failure won't bring him back, or undo anyone's suffering. It won't reverse the damage that's been done."

"How convenient for you."

"I'm not apathetic, Greg. I care very much. I'm sorry that he's dead. If I had any way of knowing that he was planning to kill himself, I'd have done everything in my power to prevent it."

"What makes you think you could have prevented it?"

"I said I'd do _everything in my power_. That doesn't mean I'd succeed."

"I'm not going to the funeral."

"Okay."

"You don't think it's _okay."_

"..."

"You think I should go."

"I _do_ think you should go. I also think you should do so voluntarily. Otherwise the experience is pointless."

"His mother called me."

"She said."

"You talked to her?"

"Several times."

"Alvie told her I was his best friend. Can you believe it?"

"You probably were."

"I wasn't _even_ his friend."

"Well...for some reason, he seemed to think you were."

"That's because he didn't know any better. Trust me, I'm nobody's friend."

"He wasn't stupid, Greg."

"He was an idiot."

"He got an almost perfect score on his SAT."

"You really believe that? He was a pathological liar. He once told me that he'd made out with Gloria Estefan."

"There's a copy of the test scores in his patient file."

"He said he was in remedial classes."

"When he was little, he was. They mistook his oppositional defiance for autism and put him in special-ed."

"I guess_ they're_ the idiots then."

"He never went to college because he never finished high school. He was a mediocre student until he was diagnosed. When he was medicated, he had a three point nine GPA, wrestled and played baseball. Middle of his senior year, he stopped taking his meds. He failed most of his classes after that, because he didn't show up."

"He deserved a better friend than me."

"I wish you could see how absolutely untrue that is."

"I don't want to go to the funeral."

"You told me that already. Why tell me that again?"

"I'm just making sure that you know, so you don't drug me and take me there against my wishes."

"I would never do that. But I really do think you'd feel better if you attended."

"Why?"

"We've talked about closure, about Amber and Dr. Kutner and your father. Look at all the progress you've made. You admitted that you regretted having to be forced into attending his funeral, to waiting so long to visit Amber and Kutner's graves. You admitted that you wish you'd had that experience. I'm trying to help you spare yourself some regrets."

"..."

"Would you hug Alvie if he were standing here now?"

"Don't. Why do you ask these ridiculous hypothetical questions?"

"I think it would help you to confront this."

"You're sick. You know that? Can't you wait a few days before you start milking the therapeutic potential of his death?"

"It's a simple question."

"And I'm choosing not to answer."

"I see. Why?"

"Because it's sick. That's why. _You're_ sick."

"How?"

"I'm not doing this."

"Okay."

"And now you think I'm a bastard."

"Not at all. Why would you think that?"

"..."

"I think you're afraid to answer because the truth is too painful to face."

"And yet here you are, trying to force me to face it."

"..."

"You're sick."

"I'm not _forcing_ you to do anything. We're two grown men, having a conversation."

"Right."

"But that doesn't mean I don't think it would be helpful for you to confront it."

"Why now?"

"Why _not _now?"

"..."

"Not having the opportunity to say _goodbye_ is often one of the most significant roadblocks in grief recovery."

"How the hell do you say goodbye to someone who's already dead?"

"Do you want to recover from this grief? Or do you want to let it fester, until it manifests itself as a physical symptom?"

"Of course I want to _recover_. I just...want to do it on my own terms."

"As you may have noticed, it doesn't quite work that way."

"Does it give you some sense of satisfaction to goad it out of me?"

"I've hardly goaded you, Greg. You're not doing or saying anything that you didn't intend to do or say."

"..."

"I want _you_ to have the sense of satisfaction that comes from being able to talk about these things, without fear or shame."

"I'm not...whatever. Yes."

"You're saying yes to the question?"

"I don't know."

"So you'd hug him, then."

"..."

"I want you to be able to say it without feeling like it's something you should be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed. It has nothing to do with that."

"Then why not just answer the question?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

"Yes, I would."

"_Would _what?"

"I'd hug Alvie. And I'd hug Kutner. And I'd hug my dad and I'd hug Amber too. I'd hug everybody. It'd be a great, big fucking hug orgy. Happy?"

"Is it easier for you to express that through humor?"

"Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?"

"..."

"What would you say to him, if you could?"

"_You were wrong_."

"Wrong about what?"

"Everything."

"What was he wrong about?"

"He thought...I don't know."

"What did he think? I know he must have told you at some point."

"He thought the system was a joke, that you were all against him, that the medication would only make him worse, that it would change who he was, that you were trying to turn him into someone else, trying to control him and break him."

"And you think he was wrong? You shared some similar opinions, at one point."

"I was wrong too."

"I see. But you didn't kill yourself."

"..."

"You're not angry that he's dead. You're angry that he killed himself, based on false pretenses."

"He didn't even try."

"He tried, Greg. He just failed. You reached a point in your recovery that he simply never reached."

"Why?"

"Because you wanted it badly enough. He didn't. He wasn't ready. Maybe he was never going to be."

"..."

"It's okay to be angry, to think he was an idiot, to think he made a mistake. It's okay to be angry at him for giving up, for not being willing to stick it out. It's okay to wonder why him and not you. Those are perfectly okay thoughts to have."

"If you say so."

"..."

"They needed his dental records to identify him."

"I know that."

"He was just a kid."

"He was twenty-eight years old."

"A _kid_."

"Yeah."

"..."

"..."

"I'm...I think I'm going to go to the funeral."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I think that's a fine idea."

"..."

"Would you like me to come with?"

"..."

"..."

"I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

"What if someone asks me how I'm doing?"

"Just tell them you're sad."


	22. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 15

_Sort of goes along with the events of Braveheart. But isn't necessarily following canon. I wrote most of this before the episode aired._

_House talks about the voices he's hearing, as well as the developments in his relationship with Wilson._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"I want ECT."

"For the auditory hallucinations."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Huh...I didn't think that would require further explanation."

"You have no reason to think that will solve anything."

"Hearing test revealed nothing abnormal."

"So?"

"So...the drugs obviously aren't working."

"You mean the antipsychotics? For all you know, they _are _working. There are lots of other things that could cause auditory symptoms."

"No headaches, dizziness, loss of coordination or other neurological issues. I had a cranial MRI. No masses, no blockage or inflammation."

"There are a dozen common infections that could present with auditory disturbances."

"No fever, no elevated white count."

"Could also be viral, which wouldn't necessarily result in either."

"The shrink thinks it's physiological. How backwards is that?"

"Actually I don't. What I think is that you're looking to fix this, instead of actually dealing with it. I think you're just trying to make it go away, as opposed to actually figuring it out."

"…"

"We should talk about this. Tell me more about what you're hearing."

"..."

"Yes, I know you'd rather not. But that's precisely why you're here."

"I already told you it's not clear. It's just whispering…brain static."

"Nothing audible at all?"

"No."

"Whispering…implies speech. Which means that the source of the noise -real or imagined- is most likely a human being."

"…"

"So is it a man or woman?"

"…"

"Whose voice do you _think_ it is?"

"…"

"Why are you so afraid to talk about this?"

"I'm not afraid. I just don't...know."

"Then guess."

"It…seems more male than female."

"Mmm hmm."

"What?"

"Sounds like maybe you do know who it is, then."

"See…this is why I don't want to talk about it. _Who_ it is doesn't matter. It's just…my brain making a random choice."

"Seriously doubt it. I know that you doubt it too, or you wouldn't be dragging your feet like this."

"…"

"So it's a man, someone you know…probably someone who you either don't see anymore or someone who isn't around anymore, meaning they're no longer in your life. That also means they might be dead. Is it Dr. Kutner?"

"No."

"Alvie?"

"What? _No_."

"Some distant relative, uncle or grandfather perhaps."

"No."

"Well then, that just leaves your dad."

"…"

"Why didn't you just tell me that in the first place?"

"Because of the look that's on your face now…that _oh my God, it's therapy time _look."

"What does he say to you?"

"Nothing in particular. He's just kind of _there_."

"_There_ how?"

"It's like a cheap clock radio on low volume, in the back of my mind. Pretty much a metaphor for our entire relationship."

"So he doesn't say anything in particular."

"I just said_ no_."

"Perhaps you can't make out any complete sentences. But can you make out any words at all?"

"..."

"You're sure."

"You think if you keep asking, I'll give you a different answer?"

"How do you feel about that presence?"

"It's creepy."

"Creepy because of what it is or because of who it is?"

"Both."

"I see."

"So can I do the ECT?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You've already done labs and imaging? I'd like to see the results."

"You're not the least bit concerned that I'm hearing voices?"

"I'm _very_ concerned, which is why I want to see the labs and films."

"..."

"I know it's much more fun this way. I'm sure if you thought getting struck by lightning would be an overnight solution, you'd try that too. Unfortunately, ECT has side effects. And even if it did _work_, the results of electroconvulsive therapy are not immediate. It wouldn't be a quick fix."

"You think I don't understand the procedure?"

"No, I think you don't understand the problem. Meaning that your solution could be the wrong one."

"Risk is minimal. And if I really do _already_ have some sort of brain damage, then it really wouldn't matter anyway."

"Your brain _could_ already be damaged, therefore you should submit yourself to a dangerous procedure that could damage it further? You're trading the uncertainty of something for the probability of something."

"I'm aware of that."

"You're not being rational, which means you're being emotional, which leads me to think this is psychological and not physical."

"All the more reason you should approve the ECT."

"Tell you what…we will spend one calendar month talking about what you're hearing and if you still want to do the ECT, I'll set it up."

"I could easily find some less principled health professional to do the honors, preferably one who _wouldn't_ make me talk about it."

"I know. I'm just hoping you won't."

"There's nothing left to talk about. There's nothing you don't already know."

"Obviously not. Obviously there's something unresolved."

"…"

"Why do you think your mind would specifically choose _now_ for this to happen?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be asking you to stick electrodes in my brain."

"_On_, not in."

"..."

"What's changed lately?"

"…"

"I'm assuming you don't need me to point out that you've recently considered becoming romantically involved with your best friend of nearly two decades."

"I'm not _that_ brain damaged."

"And you still haven't told me exactly how that went."

"How _what_ went?"

"You said you spoke to him. I'm thinking it must have gone well."

"Why would you assume that?"

"Because the second I mentioned it, you started grinning."

"I'm not _grinning_."

"Well something obviously happened, and it's eliciting a positive response. So spill."

"..."

"You're going to make me guess. This will be fun."

"..."

"Let me see...you had sex?"

"Nope."

"You kissed?"

"No."

"Hugged?"

"No."

"What does that leave?"

"Obviously something."

"You cuddled?"

"Nope."

"Oh. You...held hands?"

"..."

"Wow."

"Don't look so surprised."

"I'm not actually. Given what I know about you both, that seems like a perfectly natural progression to me."

"..."

"And how was that?"

"It didn't suck."

"_It didn't suck_. Listen to you. By the look on your face, I'd say it more than _didn't suck_."

"It was...nice."

"So how did that happen?"

"We were on the couch, watching a movie."

"What movie?"

"Is that relevant?"

"It might be."

"Caddyshack."

"Oh _very_ romantic."

"He reached over and started playing with my fingers. And before I knew it, we were..."

"Holding hands."

"Yeah."

"Very slick."

"I kind of got the feeling he'd done it before."

"Not with you though."

"Yeah."

"Did you talk about it?"

"Sort of."

"What does that mean?"

"We...discussed our mutual interests...indirectly."

"What are your mutual interests?"

"We're both single and horny."

"Ah. And you think that your intentions were clear?"

"What do you mean?"

"You think it was clear to him that your goal is to pursue a romantic or sexual relationship?"

"Yes."

"And were _his_ intentions clear?"

"Yes."

"And yet you stopped at holding hands."

"Yeah."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Sure."

"Why?"

"I think he was a little weirded out by the fact that I didn't shove him onto the floor and limp away screaming."

"Perhaps it's good to take it slow....work your way through all the bases, one by one."

"…"

"If he'd kissed you, would you have kissed him back?"

"I think so."

"You're not sure?"

"Almost ninety-nine percent sure."

"Would you have had sex with him, if he'd have been willing?"

"More like seventy-five percent sure."

"It's good that you can admit that now."

"Yeah."

"But you're okay with him taking it slow."

"Do I have a choice?"

"You might. You certainly do have influence over such things. But I think it's good to respect each other's wishes, especially so early on in your relationship."

"Not _early_. I've known him for over seventeen years."

"Early in your romantic relationship. This is all brand new. You might as well be strangers."

"True."

"And afterwards, you slept in the same bed?"

"No, actually. I slept in my own room."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I was a little weirded out too."

"This is a huge step for you both."

"Yeah."

"Your attraction to him has been officially declared, meaning that no matter what happens, the nature of your relationship will change in some fashion. It's already changed. There's no going back."

"..."

"Do you think he interpreted your sleeping in your own room as rejection?"

"No."

"How did he react to that decision?"

"He seemed...relieved."

"He did. Why do you think that is?"

"It was clear he was...I mean, I could tell that he was getting...aroused. And I don't think he's quite ready to..."

"Have sex with a you?"

"..."

"Because he knows that it will change things forever."

"They've already changed forever."

"I know that and you know that. But James has a hard time with changes, even if they're positive."

"..."

"But all of this if very good."

"Yeah."

"What do you want this to mean?"

"Why do always ask that? Why can't I just enjoy something, without you dismembering it?"

"That's kind of my job."

"..."

"And because I don't want you to get hurt."

"You know...for the first time maybe ever, I really don't care."

"About getting hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Good. That means that something is important enough to you that you're willing to take a risk."

"..."

"Does it help that he took the first step?"

"Yeah."

"There's more, isn't there? You did more than just hold hands."

"Why would you think that?"

"The look on your face, makes me think that you were intimate in some capacity."

"You don't think holding hands is intimate?"

"For most people it would be. But I think you did more than that."

"..."

"You _did_ do more than just hold hands."

"..."

"And _that's_ why you're really smiling."

"..."

"What is it?"

"It's...personal."

"Too personal to tell your therapist?"

"It's...I don't know. It's personal"

"You don't have to tell me. I'm just curious."

"Of course you are."

"Was it something that could be classified as...foreplay?"

"Actually no."

"..."

"Well...maybe. Depends."

"On what?"

"On whether or not you consider your ears to be an erogenous zone."

"_Are_ your ears an erogenous zone?"

"..."

"Does _he_ know that?"

"He does now."

"And you were aroused."

"..."

"Did he notice that you were aroused?"

"..."

"Perhaps that's why he stopped."

"Is that weird?"

"Is _what_ weird?"

"Ears."

"Did it _feel _weird?"

"No."

"Then it wasn't."

"..."

"If it feels good, then it's good. You're not hurting anyone. It's not hurting anyone for him to...fondle various parts of your body, provided that he has your consent."

"I know that."

"Then why the guilt? It's almost like you feel guilty for enjoying something."

"I don't know."

"I think this is good. He took a risk too. He revealed a side of himself to you that you haven't seen before, and you both benefited."

"..."

"Would you like to see more of _this_ side of him?"

"What do _you_ think?""

"You really are happy."

"I think I am."

"So what do you want to talk about today, aside from your auditory hallucinations?"

"How...am I going to _not_ screw this up?"

"How do you usually screw up your relationships?"

"By being an ass."

"In what capacity?"

"I...don't know."

"I think you _do_ know."

"..."

"Let's take your relationship with Stacy."

"Oh let's not and say we did."

"What ended it?"

"The infarction."

"Okay, but that wasn't what _ended_ the relationship. You had the infarction. Then she betrayed your trust and you couldn't forgive her. That's what ended the relationship."

"You're saying I should have forgiven her?"

"I'm saying you_ could_ have. I can't say whether or not you _should_ have. She did something. She made a choice. You did something. You made a choice. That's what life is, Greg...a series of actions and reactions."

"Yeah."

"So exactly how did your lack of forgiveness manifest itself?"

"I told you, I was an ass."

"_How _were you an ass?"

"I was cruel."

"How?"

"Just...remarks, things I'd say."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Nothing specific. Just random nastiness."

"I see."

"But I don't think that was really the worst thing."

"What was the worst thing?"

"I...kind of ignored her."

"In what sense?"

"She was rather self sufficient, independent."

"Explains why you got along so well."

"She wasn't very needy, emotionally. She didn't need me. And I didn't need her. We just...kind of used each other."

"But how did you go about ignoring her?"

"Towards the beginning I was attentive, flowers and all that. After...I kind of stopped talking to her, just disregarded her completely. I could tell there were things she wanted to discuss. I wouldn't give her the chance."

"You must have been in a lot of pain."

"I was."

"I don't mean physically."

"..."

"How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"Knowing that you were in pain and as a result, deliberately sabotaged your relationship."

"How am I supposed to feel about it?"

"It sounds like you have regrets."

"Yeah."

"Did you love her?"

"..."

"You're not sure?"

"I was _in love_ with her."

"But did you _love_ her?"

"I think...I loved her as much as I was capable of loving someone."

"That's an excellent answer."

"It's the truth."

"It's also a matter of perspective."

"..."

"If I'd asked you that question six months ago, your answer would have been quite different."

"Yeah."

"What would you have said?"

"I don't know."

"I'm very pleased with the progress you've made."

"..."

"So what do you think you might do to prevent making the same mistakes with James that you made with Stacy?"

"Communicate?"

"By what?"

"Talking?"

"Okay. What else?"

"I don't know. Smoke signals, Morse code?"

"If you talk, you must also listen."

"I listen."

"You do. You're a very good listener. I don't think I've ever told you that. Which is why I think that this relationship has a chance of working."

"..."

"It's okay to say _thank you_, Greg."

"Thank you."

"It's okay to feel good about yourself doing something well, doing something right, doing something better than you used to. That's okay. It's not smugness or vanity or ego. It's self awareness and self esteem."

"..."

"What do you think your father would say if he knew about the recent developments in your relationship with James?"

"Why would you ask that?"

"You know why."

"..."

"Maybe you already know what he would say. Maybe you've already heard it."

"…"

"You said your father once accused you of being gay. How did he phrase that particular accusation?"

"I don't remember."

"Try."

"I think...he called me a faggot."

"Very original. Why do you think he did that?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Deflection tells me it's probably embarrassing."

"..."

"Why don't you just tell me and get it over with."

"He…found some magazines."

"Gay porn?"

"No, actually. They were just ordinary body building magazines. But there were men _in _them. I imagine _some_ of them might have been gay."

"And you were using these to become aroused?"

"No. I really was just interested in body building. I was skinnier than most of my classmates and wanted to bulk up."

"Why do you think your father was so quick to arrive at the conclusion that you might be gay?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"I never had any girlfriends."

"Ever?"

"I've only had one real, long term relationship with a woman."

"You mean Stacy."

"Yeah."

"And how old were you when you met?"

"Thirty-three. We lived together for five years."

"Until the infarction."

"We stayed together for five weeks after that."

"Thirty-three is a bit old, to have never had a serious relationship."

"What can I say? I'm a late bloomer."

"Did you have any other relationships with women, even if they were brief?"

"I only went on a handful of dates in high school, most of which were set up by my parents. I dated several women in college. I had sex with quite a few. I just never…I wasn't really committed to any of them. None of them were committed to me."

"How many is _quite a few_?

"I don't remember."

"Ballpark figure."

"More than thirty...less than fifty."

"That's a lot."

"I guess."

"Does that include any hookers?"

"Outside of that experience in Okinawa, I didn't have sex with any hookers until after the infarction."

"Would you consider yourself promiscuous?"

"Depends on how you're gauging it."

"How would _you_ gauge it?"

"No...I mean some people might think so. But no, it didn't feel like it."

"Why so many partners?"

"I don't know."

"You were looking for something that I'm guessing you didn't find."

"..."

"Ever the same woman twice?"

"A few times."

"And no men?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Because I'm hoping that eventually you'll feel comfortable enough to tell me the truth."

"..."

"I'm right, right?"

"Do I have to talk about this? Do you really need to know _everything_?"

"No and no. But the more I know, the more I can help you."

"I'm not talking about this."

"Why not?"

"Because it's completely irrelevant."

"I think it's very relevant. I think_ you_ think it's relevant. I think that's why you're so reluctant to discuss it."

"..."

"I think it's safe to say that this is somehow related to your auditory hallucinations."

"..."

"Who was it?"

"Just a guy."

"_One_ guy?"

"Yes."

"Anyone in particular?"

"He was my room mate during undergrad."

"The one you said you kissed."

"Yeah."

"And how did that start?"

"How does _anything_ start?"

"I assume there was beer involved."

"Rum, actually. His girlfriend broke up with him. We were twenty years old. He was upset...crying. Which was weird enough all by itself. We started out drinking and smoking pot and ended up cuddling in his bed."

"Interesting transition."

"That's why they call it _dope_."

"So you were uncomfortable with him being so openly emotional and your desire to comfort him was motivated by that."

"That and the rum, yeah."

"And then you had sex?"

"No."

"No?"

"Not that time."

"When?"

"He started asking me to sleep with him. He'd get all weepy and say he was lonely and depressed and I'd...give in."

"Interesting."

"What is?"

"That you'd give in to that. What was in it for you?"

"I don't know...body heat?

"You must have been attracted to him, in some capacity."

"..."

"Was he good looking?"

"He was...kind of cute, I guess."

"So you eventually started...fondling one another."

"Kind of. I woke up one night and he was basically humping my leg."

"What did you do?"

"I was freaked at first. Then I realized..."

"You had an erection."

"Yeah."

"So you...humped back."

"Not right away. But...yeah, basically."

"And it never went further than that?"

"It did."

"And?"

"_And_, I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"I just don't."

"What did you do that you're so ashamed of?"

"..."

"This is shame I'm seeing. This is guilt. This is someone who did something that he thinks he shouldn't have done. What exactly do you feel guilty about? It sounds like he was using you, not the other way around."

"He was...Crandall was a people pleaser, the type of guy who would bend over backwards for you...give you the shirt off his back, whether you deserved it or not."

"Those are good qualities."

"He was incredibly naive."

"So you feel like you took advantage of him in some capacity."

"The reason his girlfriend broke up with him...is because I slept with her."

"Why would you do that?"

"They were having problems. He asked me for help. I agreed to talk to her, smooth things over between them. One thing led to another. She cried. I held her. Before I knew it, it was morning and we were naked."

"So you didn't plan it."

"No."

"I see. That's why you feel guilty."

"No..."

"Then why?"

"I told you that he would ask me to sleep in his bed. I'm not a real _cuddly_ person. So after a while, I kind of got tired of it. It was hard sleeping next to him every night, rubbing up against him..."

"Not getting any_ real_ relief."

"I told him I'd keep sleeping with him if he...you know."

"Compensated you in some fashion."

"Yeah."

"How did you request that he compensate you?"

"How do you think?"

"By what, performing oral sex?"

"Yeah."

"Did he?"

"Yes."

"Voluntarily?"

"Not...exactly."

"So you feel like you forced him."

"I _did_ force him...sort of."

"How?"

"He was doing it voluntarily. He actually seemed to be enjoying it. But he told me in advance that he didn't want to...you know."

"Swallow."

"Yeah."

"A reasonable request."

"So he made me promise to tell him before...so he could..."

"Prevent you from ejaculating into his mouth."

"Yeah."

"I take it you didn't?"

"I didn't. I just...pretended it was an accident."

"Was he mad?"

"Not really. He just looked embarrassed."

"I don't think that's _too_ terrible."

"Yeah well, I did it several more times. And he fell for it every time."

"Why do you think you did that?"

"I don't know."

"Swallowing another person's semen, while disgusting, is also a sign of intimacy and trust. Perhaps you thought the only way you'd be privy to such treatment is by forcing someone. Perhaps you didn't think someone would voluntarily extend to you, that sort of intimacy or trust."

"Maybe."

"Did you ever give _him_ oral sex?"

"No."

"Did he ever ask you to?"

"Yes."

"Why did you say no?"

"..."

"You were afraid he'd do the same thing to you that you'd done to him."

"More or less."

"Did you ever go further than that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you ever have intercourse?"

"No."

"Did you ever ask to?"

"Sort of."

"How did he respond to that?"

"I was drunk. I asked if I could...you know...fuck him."

"Why?"

"I was horny. He was there. Seemed...convenient."

"I take it he said _no_."

"He was afraid, I think."

"Of what."

"Pain probably. I don't know."

"How did you react to him saying _no_?"

"I begged, rather pathetically."

"And he gave in?"

"No. He never caved. And after about the third or forth time giving me oral, he refused to...again."

"He refused to give you oral?"

"No."

"Oh...he refused to swallow your semen."

"Yeah."

"Did he say why?"

"The obvious reasons. I'm sure it doesn't taste good."

"So you've never tasted it?"

"I tasted my own once."

"When?"

"When I was about thirteen."

"Why?"

"Just curious."

"Interesting. So it sounds like the Crandall person stood up for himself, Greg. He maintained boundaries. He wasn't a victim."

"..."

"Did you fool around at all after that?"

"We'd still sleep together. Not every night. Just...whenever. We never talked about it. We'd just kind of climb into bed together, turn out the lights, make out, dry hump each other, get up and change our clothes and go back to sleep."

"How many times did you do that?"

"Too many to count."

"I thought you said you only kissed him once."

"Yeah...I obviously lied."

"I had a feeling. But why?"

"Because I didn't want to talk about it."

"Do you feel better now that you have?"

"Do I have to answer that?"

"Not directly."

"Yeah, I guess I do feel better."

"Certainly explains why you never had any girlfriends though, if you were always sleeping with your room mate."

"He did."

"He'd continue sleeping with you, even though he had other...conquests."

"Yes."

"Were they aware that you two were sleeping together also?"

"No."

"Was anyone aware?"

"I don't think so."

"I can't imagine that didn't damage your self esteem."

"I just figured he was confused. I don't think he was ever really gay."

"But you are?"

"I told you, I never really thought of myself as gay or straight."

"Maybe he didn't either."

"He _loved_ women, especially plus sized women with large breasts."

"He apparently loved men as well."

"I don't think he ever slept with any other men."

"Perhaps you were special."

"Not special enough."

"So that's what this is about. You feel slighted. You cared about him and he refused to be exclusive with you. You were a dirty secret that he felt the need to hide."

"..."

"And you assume that means something about you and not him. He wasn't comfortable with his own sexuality. Between that and the disapproval from your father, do you think that you might be projecting some of those feelings of rejection onto your current situation?"

"I don't know."

"Bear in mind that if your room mate was fooling around with you, he was never really exclusive with anyone else either."

"Yeah."

"Also...he was okay with you knowing about _them_. But didn't want them knowing about you. We hide that which we're trying to protect and preserve. Not the other way around."

"You hide things you don't want anyone to know about. Am I supposed to be flattered?"

"So perhaps you're ashamed, not because of the homosexual nature of these activities, but because of what you think they imply about your character. You think you're not worthy of exclusivity. You think you're something that needs to be hidden or concealed."

"..."

"Did you love him?"

"He was a good friend."

"That's not an answer."

"Yeah...sure."

"Were you _in love_ with him?"

"I don't know. Maybe at some point."

"Did you ever feel as strongly about him as you do about James?"

"Probably...but not for very long."

"Why not?"

"Just...I don't know."

"Maybe because while you cared about him, you never felt like it was completely mutual."

"I was convenient."

"Because you lived together."

"Only the first year. After that, we got an apartment with some other guys."

"Instead of living in the dorms. Why?"

"I was tired of living in the dorms, being told when I could come and go, how late I could stay up and all that."

"But why get an apartment with _him_?"

"Didn't want to break in a new room mate."

"So it was a choice. The more convenient option would have been just to stay in the dorms."

"So?"

"So...I don't think he was with you out of convenience."

"He wasn't_ with me_ at all."

"You were together physically."

"Not the same thing."

"You value the intellectual over the physical."

"...."

That's interesting."

"..."

"Thus bringing me back to the reason for your auditory hallucinations."

"..."

"I think what you're hearing is psychologically based. I think you've repressed a lot of shame about your sexuality and you're having a hard time because now you're actually facing it. You're living out those fantasies that you've been so uncomfortable with over the years. And that's scary."

"..."

"Have you considered sharing any of this with James?"

"No."

"Does he even know that you're hearing voices?"

"I don't want to worry him. And the part about Crandall, he just wouldn't understand."

"You think he'd prefer to believe he was your first?"

"For the sake of his ego? God, yes."

"Keeping secrets is what will inevitably worry him."

"Not if he doesn't know they're being kept."

"Either way, I'm not authorizing the use of ECT. We'll simply discuss the related issues until the auditory hallucinations subside."

"And what if they don't?"

"I bet you one hundred dollars that they will."

"How long do we have to discuss them for?"

"In one calendar month, if they're not gone, I will give you one hundred dollars."

"You're on, doc."

"You don't mind betting on your own recovery?"

"Either I'll lose the hallucinations, or I'll gain a hundred bucks. Sounds like a win-win to me."


	23. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 16

_This one is short. Sorry. This is the prelude to House writing the letter to his father which is found in chapter 3 of my other story One Down; Two To Go._

**

* * *

**

Another Sixty Minutes

"I think I'm depressed."

"I'm pretty sure we established that already, hence the antidepressants I prescribed you over nine months ago."

"Maybe you should increase the dosage."

"You're already at three hundred milligrams."

"Four-fifty isn't unheard of."

"In patients without established seizure disorders."

"..."

"What's going on?"

"Before...I agreed to treatment. But even when I took the pills...I never actually_ felt_ depressed. The symptoms were there…You were right to give me the pills. But I only took them because I wanted to be released."

"But you never actually thought you were depressed."

"Not really."

"And now you actually_ do_ feel depressed."

"Yeah."

"So...why do you think you're depressed?"

"I don't know."

"I think you must at least have some idea, or you wouldn't have brought it up."

"..."

"Are you still having the auditory hallucinations?"

"No, actually. I'm not."

"They just stopped all on their own?"

"They didn't stop. They just...weren't hallucinations."

"Explain."

"Turns out I wasn't imagining things at all. Wilson was just talking to his dead girlfriend."

"Talking how?"

"Just...carrying on one-sided conversations with her, telling her about his day."

"So you've just been...overhearing him doing this?"

"Yeah."

"Did you confront him about it?"

"No."

"Sounds like it bothers you, though."

"Hey...it's better than thinking my dead father is talking to me."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't bother you."

"..."

"And even though you weren't _actually_ hallucinating, your brain chose to interpret what you were hearing as your dead father talking to you."

"So?"

"So...you don't think that's significant?"

"..."

"I can't help thinking there's still something unresolved there."

"Yeah..."

"Okay...something's obviously on your mind. Why don't you just tell me what it is?"

"I was in Cub Scouts once."

"Were you?"

"It wasn't for very long. We ended up moving again. But I was in it for several months. I_ remember_...craft projects, field trips. I remember making a mobile and stitching together a leather wallet. I remember my father volunteering to barbeque sausage links at the pancake breakfast."

"I see."

"My mother took me to the circus when I was three and I got to ride an elephant. I remember thinking it was funny when one of the camels sneezed and sprayed snot all over the ring master. I...remember eating peanuts and tossing the shells on the ground. I remember the sound of them underneath my sneakers."

"And you'd completely forgotten about these things until just now?"

"Yes."

"Have you remembered anything else?"

"I remember being four years old...I was the shower with my dad. He would lift me up so I could be closer to the water. I remember him taking me into the men's room at some restaurant when I was six, and showing me how to pee in the urinal. I missed and peed on the wall. I don't remember why it was funny. But I remember us…laughing about it. I remember him picking me up and putting me on his shoulders, so I could get a better view of some parade..."

"Those all sound like good memories, Greg."

"They are."

"But for some reason, you blocked them out."

"I guess."

"And now you feel guilty about that. You feel bad about only remembering the bad things."

"…"

"I think it makes sense that you blocked out those things, because a lot of your childhood was traumatic."

"Apparently not as traumatic as you thought."

"Well, let me finish. You grew up almost exclusively on military bases. You were exposed to a lot of violence, pain and suffering. You learned at a young age that your father had killed other people during a state of war. By the time you were twelve, you'd figured out that your father wasn't your biological parent, meaning that your mother had at some point been unfaithful. That's…traumatic."

"That doesn't mean I had to block it out, or pretend it had never happened."

"No...that's exactly what it means."

"..."

"That's what we do when things hurt too much to think about."

"..."

"There's a lot of anger there, Greg. Anger makes us not want to remember the good things, because then it's even harder to stay angry."

"Why the hell would I want to _stay_ angry?"

"You were young and helpless. Anger was the only weapon you had, your only protection against a stronger and more powerful force."

"What if it was all my fault?"

"What was?"

"My mom used to imply that I could have tried harder...what if…my dad and I not getting along. What if that was all me?"

"Trust me, it wasn't."

"But you can't know that. You weren't there."

"I don't have to be. If that's what your mother thinks, she's wrong. It takes two people to create conflict, Greg. If it had been important enough to him to_ resolve_ that conflict, your dad would have found a way."

"You don't think it was important to him?"

"I don't think he was willing to risk being rejected, in order to make peace with you. Your father was a human being too and he was probably afraid you'd tell him to go to hell. Rather than face the reasons for that, meaning confronting his own behavior, he allowed himself to believe that you were the one with the problem. That way your lack of a relationship was your fault and not his."

"…"

"You have doubts now. You're thinking if you'd only tried, if you'd been willing to swallow your pride, if you'd given just a little more...you could have had a better relationship with your father…"

"That's wrong?"

"It's not wrong or right. But it's a waste. He's gone. It's over and cannot be changed. Mourn it and be done with it."

"I don't know how to do that."

"Do what?"

"Mourn."

"Sounds like you're doing just fine to me. These periods of painful reflection are part of the grieving process. When you hit a tender spot, it means you're healing. It means you're moving on. In other words, the fact that you _feel depressed_ is a good sign."

"Does it ever end?"

"Of course it does. But you need to realize that the only way out of this is by going through it. There are no shortcuts in recovery. There are no easy solutions."

"..."

"Hmm...you look very serious right now."

"I've never told anyone this, not even Wilson."

"Okay."

"I've kind of avoided watching, reading or listening to anything remotely military related, especially anything involving the Vietnam War."

"Completely understandable."

"Oh."

"You were expecting me to tell you that you're petty and shallow?"

"Maybe."

"..."

"The other night, I was flipping around the dial and I landed on this news special about the war in Iraq...about the soldiers and their families."

"And you watched it."

"I wasn't going to, at first. I kept switching the channel and then coming back to it."

"What changed your mind?"

"I...honestly don't know."

"But you watched it."

"Yeah."

"And it was upsetting."

"Yeah."

"Did you cry?"

"..."

"Good."

"_Good?"_

"I'm glad to hear it. It's a good sign that something moved you to tears. It means you're finally allowing yourself to feel hurt."

"I never thought about how _he _might have felt about leaving us. I thought...he hated us. I thought that was why he stayed away."

"He was just doing his job."

"He could have chosen a different job."

"Would you choose to leave medicine? Would you just quit and start up a new career as a plumber or a salesman?"

"No."

"And why not?"

"..."

"He had a calling, a deeper purpose that couldn't be ignored. Surely you can relate."

"I thought there wasn't _anything_…good. Lately I can't think about anything else. I find myself wondering if my memories weren't biased. I keep thinking maybe he wasn't really abusive at all. Maybe he was just doing what he thought he had to do. Then I feel guilty for complaining…for implying that I'd been mistreated, when in actuality...maybe I was just getting what I deserved."

"Okay. Hold on a second. Those are reasonable feelings for you to have. But I want you to remember that there are two sides to every story. Yes, you were difficult, and yes your memories are probably biased. When you're a child you're small, sensitive and you're easily hurt, both physically and emotionally. But at the same time, knowing that there were deeper reasons for your father's actions doesn't necessarily excuse them. Some of the things your father did were in fact abusive. Some of the things you did as a child were also inexcusable. You definitely deserved to be disciplined in some capacity. But that doesn't mean your father's methods weren't flawed or excessive. I think what you're realizing now is that none of those things means that he didn't love you, or that you didn't love him."

"I think maybe he did."

"Love you."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Love is a good thing, right?"

"Generally speaking."

"So why does it feel...bad?"

"That's not love, Greg. That's guilt. You feel guilty for doubting it. What you should know is that your doubts were warranted. And I'm sure he knew that too."

"..."

"You don't think he knew it?"

"I can't stop obsessing over all the things I did…the shoplifting and the truancy, the fights, the vandalism, the drinking and the drugs…the things I said. And I said some really horrible things. I feel like maybe I was making his life more difficult than he was making mine."

"I think you were making your _own_ life difficult. I think he was trying to make it easier and he failed because again, his methods were flawed."

"..."

"Can you change this? Can you go back and make different decisions?"

"No."

"Then let it go. Acknowledge that you screwed up. Acknowledge regret. Take responsibility and move forward."

"..."

"Did you do as I suggested? Did you _talk_ to your father?"

"I don't know."

"You either did or you didn't."

"..."

"I suggested you apologize for anything you might have done to hurt him and to tell him that you forgive him and love him and say _goodbye_. Did you do any of that?"

"I said _goodbye_."

"Why not the other things?"

"Wilson was...within earshot."

"Okay...so wait until he's _not_ there. Wait until you're in your car or in the shower or something."

"You're assuming I'm alone, when I'm in those places..."

"You're not together _all_ the time."

"..."

"Did you write the letter like I suggested?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why do you think?"

"Greg. If you want closure, you need to do these things. I know they sound trite...but they work. Trust me."

"..."

"You've got that serious look again."

"I couldn't remember."

"And that's okay. It's not a crime to forget."

"No...I thought…he never hugged me. I was convinced that he never had. But he did. Not a lot. But he _did_ hug me. I forgot. How the hell could I forget something like that?"

"Anger is very powerful."

"I called him a _murderer_."

"I know it."

"You should have seen his face. He was...mortified."

"..."

"I mean...maybe he never killed anyone at all."

"He probably did and I doubt he felt good about it. I also doubt he'd react the way he did to your statement if he hadn't."

"He_ bragged_ about it."

"You flaunted your drug addiction in people's faces. Why?"

"…"

"Things were ashamed of, when we act like we're proud of them, we take away other people's ability to control us. Because for him the alternative would have been accepting that whether he meant to or not, he may have killed innocent people. And that's a heavy load for anyone to carry."

"Whenever a Marine Corps commercial comes on the television, I change the channel."

"Why?"

"I get…bitter whenever I see anything remotely related to the military. I can't even bring myself to look."

"Because then you might have to face your father's humanity. Maybe he wasn't a monster. Maybe he was just a guy who went to war and came back damaged. Maybe he's not so different from you at all."

"..."

"It's good that you can recognize and identify your own feelings...sadness, anger and bitterness."

"I think he was a good man. I mean, for a long time I thought he was a total bastard. But he was dedicated. He loved what he did and he was good at it. He risked his life to save millions of people. I never...acknowledged that. In fact I openly _refused_ to acknowledge that."

"But his heroic actions weren't necessarily relevant to you. He was your father, meaning you couldn't possibly regard him objectively."

"Other people could see that he was a hero and I couldn't."

"Other people weren't his son."

"True."

"But when he failed to earn your respect, he ruined any chances of you considering him to be a hero. He ruined any chances of being _your_ hero."

"Sometimes...I wish he were."

"That's good. As long as you realize it's not your fault that he isn't."

"..."

"I think I get it now."

"What do you get?"

"I thought he was ashamed of me, of my handicap. But he just didn't want to see it ruin my life. He didn't want me to stop living, just because of my leg. He didn't want it to define me."

"What are basing this on?"

"The last time I saw him, he told me that I didn't know how _lucky_ I really was."

"What do you think that was in reference to?"

"At first I thought he was dismissing my pain. I thought he was implying that I wasn't _really_ handicapped. It was like I wasn't crippled _enough_ for his standards."

"But now?"

"Now...I think he just meant that it could have been worse. I could have lost my leg. I could have died. I hated him for the things he said. But I've been thinking...I have no idea how to express such things either. Why should I expect something of him that I can't even do?"

"It's quite possible that your limitations are merely a biproduct of his limitations, meaning that your inability to communicate your feelings is the result of your upbringing."

"Does it matter?"

"No, actually...it doesn't."

"He used to pick me up, swing me around in circles and then drop me. And the whole room would spin and then I'd ask him to do it again."

"Sounds fun."

"It was."

"..."

"I want to talk to him. I just...don't know what to say to him."

"Just say _I love you. _Say _I'm sorry._ Say _I forgive you...and_ _I miss you_. Be open and honest. Say you wish things had been better. Say…you understand."

"But I'm not sure that I do."

"Sure you do. You spoke very clearly about it just now."

"..."

"You're not angry anymore. So it's no longer dangerous for you to draw comparisons between the two of you. Discovering that you were not biologically related was traumatic. Realizing that you were more alike than different is actually a comfort, because it means that you were connected. The fact that your brain chose to interpret what you were hearing as the sound of your father's voice, tells me that you're still longing for that connection."

"But it's too late to be connected to him. He's dead"

"But it's not too late to_ say_ these things, Greg. And it will matter to you that you've had a chance to say them."

"..."

"Write the letter, and I promise that you will feel better."


	24. Risk

_When House skips his appointment, Nolan shows up at his place. Dialogue only between them. Warning: mention of sick!Wilson._

* * *

**Risk**

_(sound of knocking)_

"..."

_(sound of knocking)_

_"..."_

_(sound of knocking)_

"Hey...give the cripple time to make it to the door."

"..."

"Who is it?"

"It's me."

"_Me_ who?"

"It's Dr. Nolan."

"Uh...no habla inglés...nada a casa."

"I have no idea what that means."

"Go away. We don't want any."

"Will you just open the door? It's starting to snow out here."

"Showing up at my home unannounced at eight o'clock in the morning and Wilson is mysteriously absent? Gee, I wonder what this is going to be about."

"You had to know he'd call me."

"Of course he called you. God forbid some minute detail of my life go unscrutinized by you."

"..."

"You couldn't have at least waited until I'd gotten dressed?"

"It's Saturday."

"So?"

"James says you wear your pajamas all day Saturday and sometimes on Sunday as well."

"I hardly see how that's relevant."

"And you cancelled your appointment."

"I may have done that for a reason."

"You need to talk about this. And he knew you wouldn't otherwise."

"No, apparently _you _need to talk about it. What I need to do is sleep in, which is exactly why I cancelled my appointment."

"I tend to prefer twenty-four hours notice."

"Is it too soon to tell you that I won't be coming in next week either?"

"You're angry because he hid it from you, even though it was only for a few days."

"..."

"And that's okay."

"Don't you dare tell me what's _okay_. I don't need your permission to get pissed off at my...at...at _Wilson_."

"At your _what?"_

"Nevermind."

"What were you going to say?"

"I have no idea. Which is precisely why I didn't say it."

"Right."

"I appreciate your concern. But I'm fine. He's fine. He's actually at work right now. So he's _really_ fine."

"He's not at work."

"Of course he's not."

"..."

"Still...don't need you. So you can go now."

"I'm not leaving until we've talked about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"I am not your enemy, Greg."

"I know that."

"Meaning that I'm not the reason you're upset. So there's no reason to direct your anger at me."

"Who says I'm upset?"

"My mistake. You're clearly as pleasant as ever."

"..."

"I'm here to help."

"Right."

"So...just talk to me. Tell me what's going on. Tell me what you're feeling."

"You already know what's going on and I'm pretty sure you can figure out what I'm feeling. So really there's no reason for me to talk. In fact, there's no reason for you to even be here. Ergo..."

"I want to hear it from you."

"I'm not paying you for this conversation."

"I'm here as your friend."

"No, you're here as a _shrink_. It's in your blood. You'll drive miles to quench that overwhelming thirst to psychoanalyze."

"That doesn't mean I don't consider you a friend. Doesn't mean I don't care."

"You really have_ no_ personal life, do you?"

"Stop deflecting."

"Seriously. How does your wife feel about this...showing up at patient's homes on your day off? I'll bet she's still in bed right now."

"My wife has a life outside of me."

"I don't even think _you _have a life outside of you."

"Are you through with the deflections?"

"No."

"..."

"He wants to do the surgery."

"He told me."

"And you think he should, of course."

"It doesn't matter what I think."

"Let's pretend for a moment that it does."

"He's an oncologist...a very good one. I think he's intelligent enough to fully understand all of the risks involved. I'm not an expert on cancer. But given the circumstances, surgery sounds like the best option."

"…"

"And you know that too, which is why this is so frustrating. You know that he's right. It's a low risk, routine procedure, for a condition that is unlikely to be fatal. You know that everything is going to be fine. You just hate that you have no control over the outcome."

"You don't get it."

"You say that a lot. And at the risk of being inconsiderate, you're usually wrong. Just what is it that you think I don't get?"

"Wilson and I have been friends for a long time."

"Mmm hmm. Your point being?"

"..."

"..."

"Hold on. I had a point. I just can't remember what it was."

"Why don't I take a crack at it?"

"Would it stop you if I said_ no_?"

"No."

"It was worth a shot."

"You've never been so close. You've never been this close to anyone. You've never been this happy before. And now that's being threatened."

"..."

"I_ do_ get it, Greg. This doesn't have to change anything."

"It's not _just_ the fact that we're…"

"You're what?"

"I actually don't know what we are. But it's _other_ things."

"What _other_ things?"

"I mean. Okay...I know you're thinking that he and I like are a couple...because we're living together and sleeping in the same bed? But we're not."

"You're not."

"We haven't even...done the deed."

"You haven't had sex yet?"

"..."

"I don't see how that factors in to this equation."

"..."

"It's not just about the sex, Greg. I know that. I never thought it was."

"Yeah? We haven't even kissed yet either. What exactly does that leave?"

"I don't know. What _does_ it leave?"

"Two lonely and pathetic middle aged men, who happened to be sharing a lumpy, queen-sized mattress."

"Have you _tried_ to kiss him?"

"We came close a couple times. Then he got self conscious. _I_ got self conscious. We've talked about it. He's...practically obsessed about it. But it hasn't happened."

"And you think for some reason now, it won't?"

"..."

"Is that the source of your fear? You think he'll get sick or die and you'll never get to kiss?"

"I'm not some emo, teenaged girl..."

"Having fears makes you an emo, teenaged girl?"

"..."

"I think it makes you human."

"..."

"This is exactly why you should be enjoying this relationship and looking forward to all the wonderful things that are going to happen, instead of obsessing about what it will be like when and if it ends."

"When…_when_ it ends."

"Yes, Greg. Everything ends eventually. You knew that going into it. But this isn't life or death. It's a very treatable form of cancer, the most treatable in fact. And it was caught early."

"I get that. And it's like...even though I know all the statistics and logistics...I'm not good with this stuff. _He_ knows I'm not good with this stuff. The truth is...I just don't think I can deal with this."

"I imagine he's feeling similarly."

"Right. And I'm a selfish bastard for even worrying about myself when he's got a tumor on _his_ fricken testicle."

"I didn't say that. Your feelings are real and they matter. But you need to be careful that in your attempt to preserve what you have together, you don't lose it prematurely."

"You don't think I'm going to lose it anyway?"

"Why on Earth would you lose it?"

"..."

"If he does the surgery and they're able to remove the tumor, he will be completely fine. It hasn't metastasized, as far as you know. If they can't excise it all, he'll do chemo and targeted radiation…and again, he'll be completely fine. You need to stop thinking about what _could_ happen. Yes, he could die. He will eventually die of something. But we will all eventually die. Just because something _can_ end in tragedy doesn't mean it will."

"..."

"And you know him. You know how he handles trauma and stress. He's going to need you to get through this."

"He doesn't _need_ me."

"I think you're gravely mistaken."

"..."

"Assuming that you _are_ mistaken, are you prepared to be there?"

"Well, I kind of have to be _now_."

"You don't _have_ to do anything, Greg. This is a choice. Any commitment you make to another person is a choice."

"Yeah."

"And are you committed?"

"Yeah."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know."

"You're panicking."

"..."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Because it matters. Because you love him and he's sick and that's. scary. It's scary when the people we love are sick."

"..."

"Tell him that. Tell him how you feel. Tell him that you're scared. Tell him that you're afraid he might die."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"..."

"..."

"We...haven't..."

"Haven't what, used the _L word_ yet?"

"..."

"Now's the time, Greg. Now is the _best _time, in fact. If you love him, then he needs to hear it."

"..."

"You're waiting for him to say it first?"

"No."

"You're worried he won't say it back?"

"No..."

"I think you are."

"Is that ridiculous?"

"No, it's a perfectly normal and healthy fear. And it doesn't make you an..._overly emotional_ teenage girl either."

"I know he'll say it back. I just...can't get over the possibility that he might not. And if he doesn't...where does that leave me? Where does it leave us?"

"What happened to not caring whether or not you get hurt?"

"I don't know."

"When's the surgery?"

"Wednesday afternoon."

"That's pretty fast. Most patients have to wait weeks for a surgical referral."

"He's the department head. He has connections."

"How's he handling it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is he doing anything unusual that might lead you to think he's having a hard time with his prognosis?"

"He spent all last night making about a hundred casseroles and then labeling them with instructions and putting them in the freezer."

"Why do you think he did that?"

"He cooks when he's stressed out."

"Okay...but why make so many? Why bother including instructions?"

"I think...he just wants to make sure I'll have something to eat, in case he doesn't recover from the surgery right away."

"Remember what I said about currency?"

"Yeah, I know. Food is the fastest way to my heart. Pretty sure he knows that better than anyone."

"He knows that and he's trying to make you feel loved."

"..."

"_Do_ you feel loved?"

"I don't know."

"Would you recognize it if you did?"

"I guess...I'm not sure."

"..."

"I don't know how to reciprocate."

"Sure you do."

"No...I really don't."

"What's _his_ currency?"

"From my observation, sex."

"Then perhaps the two of you should try having some."

"He's having his testicle operated on in three days. I doubt he'll be ready for combat anytime soon."

"So you have three days."

"His scrotum is sore and swollen. He's hardly in the mood to fool around."

"Then come up with a substitute."

"I don't know what you mean."

"James interprets sex as closeness. How else might you be _close_ to him?"

"He seems to like the whole_ cuddling_ thing."

"Sounds like you don't."

"I do. I just...I get uncomfortable and sweaty. I'm never sure how long I'm supposed to keep it up, before retreating into my own space."

"I've had the same problem with my wife. I think everyone goes through that at some point, or some variation of it."

"And?"

"And I've discovered that there are rewards to enduring a little discomfort."

"..."

"A relationship only works if there's give and take. You have to give in order to get something in return."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"About what?"

"I mean, the giving. I don't know how to give."

"Now, I don't believe that for a second."

"What do normal people do?"

"About what?"

"Do I come with him? Do I hold his hand? Do I buy him flowers? Am I supposed to be there when he wakes up?"

"Why are you stressing over this? Since when do you care about what's normal?"

"..."

"I can't help thinking that this is about way more than just you being afraid of making a social faux pas."

"..."

"So what is it?"

"Nobody knows about...us. Besides you obviously."

"No one knows that you and James are romantically involved."

"That's just it. We're _not_. I already told you, we haven't _done_ anything."

"Trust me. You're involved. This is as involved as it gets. Whichever way you slice it, you are now his significant other. Time to start acting like it."

"..."

"But see...you want to know where you stand with him, so you can be one hundred percent sure about what you should do and when. You're not afraid of rejection. You're afraid of being wrong. Because if you invest in something and you were wrong about it, you could end up getting hurt."

"..."

"You're never going to be one hundred percent sure, Greg. Not about anything, especially not in matters of the heart."

"Do you have any advice that might be, I don't know, _useful?"_

"Ask yourself what you would want."

"In regards to what?"

"Would you want any of those things you mentioned?"

"I guess I'd want him there when I woke up."

"So that's easy enough. Be there when he wakes up."

"..."

"What about the flowers?"

"What about them?"

"Does he like flowers?"

"He's a guy."

"Doesn't mean he can't like flowers. You bought him flowers once before."

"Yeah...as a joke."

"Okay. But this is _not_ a joke."

"He has allergies to like...everything."

"Then scratch out the flowers. Perhaps candy or a card."

"Right."

"You think that's a bit out of character for you and you're concerned how he will react. You're concerned he'll call attention to it, want to discuss and dissect it, instead of just appreciating it."

"Yeah."

"I think you should -at the very least- hold his hand during prep. But I also think you should ask him if that's what he wants. Just be honest about your ignorance. Say you don't know what you're supposed to do and prompt him to give you instruction. If he resists...be insistent. Tell him the only way you can give him what he wants or needs is if he tells you exactly what it is."

"I never know what to say to people in these situations."

"But he's not just _people_."

"Exactly my point."

"You don't have to_ say_ anything."

"Let's just assume that I do."

"Ask him if he's scared. Ask him how he feels about what's going to happen to him."

"Then he'll _definitely_ be suspicious."

"If nothing else, he'll appreciate that you asked, that you cared enough to want to know."

"He'll still be suspicious."

"So? so what? Let him be suspicious."

"..."

"What?"

"Approximately four hundred men die every year from testicular cancer."

"When it goes undiagnosed. His was caught early. The survival rate for those whose cancer hasn't metastisized is nearly one hundred percent."

"_Nearly_ one hundred percent. Meaning that there's a small percentage of people to whom that does not apply."

"Greg..."

"Maybe they won't be able to excise it all, or they'll discover that it's already spread to his GU tract, or he'll need the chemo and radiation, but the treatment will be ineffective."

"All of those things are remotely possible, but again...highly unlikely."

"Still possible."

"I always tell people to prepare for the worst, and hope for the best. It sounds like you've got that backwards."

"..."

"And that's really getting to you. For the first time ever, the idea of mortality is actually getting to you."

"Yeah, this is a real milestone for me. Got a camera handy?"

"All the more reason to tell him how you feel _now_."

"..."

"You're assuming this will end badly, because most things in your life have."

"That's unreasonable?"

"Not at all. Just unhealthy. I don't think you realize how many things you've subconsciously sabotaged in your life. When you assume something isn't going to work, you project that negativity into the situation or the relationship, make certain that it's sure to fail."

"..."

"Do you want this to fail?"

"Of course not."

"Then give a little."

"..."

"Hold his hand. Say _I love you_. Be there when he wakes up."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Greg...If it matters to you enough, you will find a way."

"..."

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters."

"Then step out of your comfort zone and give a little. I know you can do it."


	25. Operation

_Dialogue only between House and Wilson, before Wilson's surgery._

_WARNING: Sick!Wilson. Duh. Angst to fluff._

* * *

**Operation**

"Wilson?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you...comfortable?"

"Uh...sure. I was anxious before. But the tranquilizer seems to be kicking in. Getting a little loopy, in fact."

"..."

"..."

"Wilson?"

"What?"

"How are you?"

"Fine, I guess. A little light-headed. But I think that's to be expected."

"Are you...comfortable?"

"House, you just asked me that."

"..."

"Wait...didn't you?"

"Yeah, sorry. Forgot."

"Heh...your voice sounds really far away."

"It's just the drugs."

"It's kind of weird."

"Forty years old and this is your first benzo experience. You're an embarrassment to your generation."

"Well, not all of us are as curious as you."

"Fair enough."

"..."

"..."

"Are you okay, House?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay. Your voice still sounds really weird."

"_Pretty_ sure that's you."

"..."

"Wilson?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Since when do you ask permission to _ask _me something?"

"..."

"Yes, House. You can ask me something."

"Are you...scared?"

"What's _with_ you?"

"Nothing, why?"

"Then what's with all of these very un-House-like questions?"

"I can't ask questions?"

"Sure, you can. You just usually don't, at least not without some kind of...ulterior motive."

"Nolan said I should ask."

"Of course he did. Remind me to send him a _thank you_ note."

"So…_are_ you?"

"Am I what, comfortable?"

"No...scared."

"Yes, House. I'm about to have surgery. They're going to anesthetize me and apply sharp instruments to my genitals. I'm definitely a little apprehensive."

"Ah."

"Were you hoping I'd say _no_?"

"I honestly...don't know what I was hoping."

"Right."

"..."

"..."

"So...you'll probably want me here, when they put you under."

"Do you _want_ to be here?"

"I don't..._not_ want to be here."

"I thought you said Dr. Nolan was helping you learn how to _deal_ with...this sort of thing."

"How can anyone learn to deal with this sort of thing?"

"House...I do this with patient's and their families all the time."

"It's not quite the same when _you're_ the patient."

"True."

"..."

"Other people will be watching. You want to be able to stay calm and composed. God forbid anyone should think you give a damn about someone else."

"Can you just dispense with the subtext and tell me what you _really_ want?"

"Why, so you can mock it or analyze it to death?"

"..."

"Yes, House. I want you here when they put me under. I'd like you to be there when I wake up. If it's not too much to ask, I'd like you to at least be in the hospital during."

"..."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Really? The procedure's going to be three hours at least. How exactly do you plan to keep yourself from dying of boredom or storming into the OR and trying to bully the surgeon into allowing you to take over?"

"I'll...take a few milligrams of Ativan."

"And what happens when you become completely incoherent and pass out in the corner?"

"I'll have someone on standby with a wheelchair, in case I'm too stoned to stay upright."

"And you're okay with that?"

"With taking mind altering drugs for recreational purposes? It's what I live for."

"Great."

"..."

"..."

"This is...I don't know."

"Sucks, doesn't it."

"What?"

"The whole role reversal thing."

"I...don't know what you mean."

"How many times have you been in this bed, House?"

"You mean _this very bed_? I don't think I've ever actually been in _this_ bed. Of course the nurses tend to alternate the gurneys as the patients come and..."

"_Metaphorically_ speaking."

"Ah."

"Well?"

"Was this some kind of elaborate scheme?"

"Yes. I intentionally developed testicular cancer for allegorical purposes. Stay tuned for your next valuable lesson, when I will contract a resistant strain of tuberculosis."

"..."

"So?"

"_So_ what?"

"So...how do you feel about the whole role reversal?"

"I don't know, Wilson."

"Well...at least I can always count on you to be honest."

"Which is good, since you can't count on me for anything else."

"I didn't say that."

"But that's pretty much what you meant, right?"

"..."

"What was it like for you?"

"What was _what_ like?"

"Seeing me here. Being...on _this_ side of the equation."

"House...I'm about to have surgery. Can't this wait until say..._after_ I have surgery?"

"You brought it up. We've got at least fifteen minutes. Now you don't want to discuss it?"

"..."

"Afraid you'll say something stupid, because you're stoned?"

"Yes."

"Considering all the stupid things you've watched me do and say while intoxicated, I think you totally owe me."

"I was angry. I kept thinking this last thing, this...whatever the hell it was you'd done. That you'd finally be scared enough, that you'd stop risking your own life."

"I wasn't trying to_ kill_ myself."

"Which time?"

"_Any_ time."

"You really think that matters?"

"..."

"When I'm seeing you unconscious on the floor of the bus, seizing on the floor of your office, choking on your vomit on the floor of your apartment? When I'm pounding on your chest, trying to get your heart started again...do you really think it matters what the hell you were _trying_ to do?"

"Nope."

"..."

"..."

"What?"

"I notice you left out the time I risked my life for Amber. Did plenty of seizing and vomiting then."

"House..."

"I'm guessing that doesn't count, though...since you weren't actually around to see any of it."

"Do you really want to go there?"

"No, actually. I don't. But it's too late. We're already there."

"I thought we were done with that."

"How could we be done? You came back and we never talked about it."

"I _came_ back."

"_And_ we never talked about it."

"I said I was sorry."

"No...you didn't. You said you were bored. You said you couldn't _choose_ your friends. Not quite the same thing."

"House...I distinctly remember saying I was sorry."

"You mean in Nolan's office?"

"Yes."

"You said you were sorry that I thought you didn't think my life was worth anything. You never said you were sorry for asking me to risk it. You never said you were sorry for leaving. You never said you were sorry for saying...what you said."

"Because I'd be lying. I...don't regret leaving, House. And I don't regret what I said."

"..."

"But I don't regret coming back either."

"..."

"It's complicated."

"I'll bet."

"I am...I just...I love her. I'm always going to love her. Nothing is going to change that. It doesn't mean I care about you any less."

"..."

"House...talk to me."

"No."

"Wait...come back."

"I don't want to hear this."

"Well you need to...because I need to say it."

"You've had time, Wilson. You've had more than enough time. She's been dead longer than you even knew her. When are you going to get over it? Can I get an ETA?"

"You can't plan your grief, House. If you were capable of grieving, you might know that."

"You think I'm incapable of grieving?"

"I don't know."

"No, I don't think you do."

"Look, I know you're capable of grieving in your own way...But there are some things you don't understand..."

"Do tell."

"I didn't know her that well or that long. But I just couldn't handle the idea of losing her. I couldn't handle the idea of _losing_. I was attracted to her because she was strong, because I was sure she'd make it through anything."

"You dated her because she seemed durable? Yeah, that's not screwed up at all."

"No. No...well, maybe. It just never occurred to me that she was..."

"...what, _mortal?"_

"Perhaps. But then I realized it never occured to me that_ you_ were mortal. And I didn't know what to do with that."

"People die, Wilson. People get sick._ Everyone_ dies, loved ones, patients and strangers alike. No matter what you do to try and prevent it, I will eventually die."

"I'm an oncologist, for God's sake. I know that."

"Really? Because sometimes it seems like you don't. It seems like you think you can avoid any sort of loss, by just alienating anyone you get remotely close to."

"Um...projecting much?"

"Okay. I _do_ that. I _have _done that. But so do you. At least I'm aware of it."

"I don't know what you want from me."

"I want you to acknowledge what you asked of me."

"House..."

"I want you to acknowledge that you...devalued my life by asking me to risk it for someone that you barely knew."

"And I want you to acknowledge that it was your fault she was dying to begin with."

"..."

"..."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I don't know what to think."

"You think I don't think about that _every_ single day? You think I don't look in the mirror every morning and see the person who ruined your life? I spent four months in a mental hospital..."

"You didn't _ruin_ my life."

"I _killed_ your girlfriend."

"I didn't say you _killed_ her, House..."

"You didn't have to. Your eight weeks of silent treatment spoke volumes. And even after you came back...things haven't been the same between us. We haven't been back to normal."

"When have we ever been _normal_? We kind of abandoned _normal_ when we started sleeping in the same bed."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about."

"Your addictions and habits hurt others, House. They've cost me my girlfriend, and on other occasions my job, my car, my money...my reputation and my sanity. I have the right to begrudge that."

"..."

"Don't I?"

"Then why come back?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Why the hell would you bother coming back, if associating with me would mean losing all of those things? Why not just stay away? Why not just start over somewhere else?"

"House...I don't want to have this conversation."

"Yeah well, too bad. We're having it. Should have had it sooner."

"You need to face the fact that your actions have consequences. Your mistakes affect other people."

"So do yours."

"..."

"But in order to accept that fact, you'd also have to accept the fact that you're capable of error."

"Yeah, I'm the one with the ego problem here."

"I know my actions have consequences, Wilson."

"_Do_ you?"

"I wasn't...I never wanted to..."

"Never wanted to _what_?"

"..."

"..."

"Forget it. Just...forget it."

"Forget what?"

"Everything. Forget everything. Fuck it all."

"..."

"Good luck with your surgery, Wilson. You're prognosis is good. I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Wait... that's _it_?"

"That's it."

"You're just...leaving?"

"If you have the right to walk away from me, I have the right to walk away from you."

"Sure. But..._right now_? Could your timing be worse?"

"This...was never going to work. I should have realized that. It was a mistake from the get go."

"It's not a mistake."

"Yes, it is. I was deluding myself into thinking it wasn't."

"So you're giving up?"

"I'm just following your lead."

"I haven't given up, House."

"You gave up on me years ago."

"That's not fair."

"You're telling me."

"Don't do this now...Look, I'm stoned from the sedative. I don't know what I'm saying...Just listen to me for a second."

"I have listened to you, Wilson. I've heard everything I need to hear."

"No, you haven't."

"Goodbye."

"Wait...wait. I don't know how to do this, okay?"

"Do what?"

"_This_. How the hell do you say _I'm sorry for...asking you to fry your brain?_ Huh? How the hell do you phrase something like that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Try _I'm sorry for asking you to fry your brain_."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. Saying you're sorry isn't rocket science. It's three words. A two year old could do it."

"You're not exactly known for your stellar apologies, House."

"And you _are_? When's the last time you apologized to anyone for _anything_ and really meant it? When's the last time you apologized for reasons other than soothing your troubled conscience?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"I apologized, Wilson. I apologized the second I realized she was dying. I apologized again when you came back to work. I came to your apartment and practically begged you to talk to me. I offered you cash for a few minutes of your precious time and you shut the door in my face."

"You risked your patient's life in an attempt to blackmail me. You...you...you told me to buy a fucking plant."

"I didn't know what else to say, Wilson."

"Well then, that makes it okay for you to be a self-absorbed ass."

"I don't know how to comfort people. I never have and I probably never will."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't have tried."

"I couldn't even _bring _myself to try, knowing that I was the _reason_ for your grief."

"If it mattered, you would have tried."

"It was _because_ it mattered, that I _didn't_ try."

"That makes no sense at all."

"I mean, how the hell do you say_ I'm sorry I killed your girlfriend?_ How the hell do you phrase _that_?"

"You didn't _kill_ her..."

"Stop saying that. I _did!"_

"House..."

"I got drunk because I was feeling sorry for myself...because I was angry at you for spending all of your time with her. I called you because...I was selfish bastard who thought you should drop whatever you were doing and come running to meet my demands. I forgot you were on call that night because...I didn't care enough to remember. I'm sure you told me at some point. I didn't care if I was inconveniencing you...or her. All I cared about was getting plowed enough to forget about how much my life sucked. I didn't care about who was hurt in the process."

"..."

"And I was bitter, which is why I didn't allow her to drive me home. I was bitter that she'd showed up at all. I wanted her to know it. I hated her for taking up all your free time. But she came to get me, because she actually cared that I made it home okay. And I resented her for it. I made her drink a drink. I stuck her with my bar tab and tried to ditch her by getting on the bus. And she followed me, Wilson. I left my cane behind and she followed me onto the bus to give it back."

"Why the hell are you telling me this?"

"Because...if you're going to blame me for her death, I think you should have all the facts. I think you should know how it actually went."

"I don't want to hear this."

"You need to. Because I need to say it. I need...I've thought about this a lot, and I've decided that I can't let your unwillingness to face _this_, stop me from getting closure. I just can't."

"Isn't that what Dr. Nolan is for?"

"He's not the one whose girlfriend I killed."

"You...you didn't _kill _her, House."

"You think if you say it enough times, you'll begin to believe it?"

"I don't know what you want from me."

"I want you to admit that you're angry. I want you to admit that there's a little part of you that still hates me. Because honestly...unless you confront those things, we have no chance of making it at all. And I'm not going to invest myself in something that's destined to crash and burn."

"It's not going to crash and burn."

"You don't smell the smoke?"

"House...of course I'm angry. But not at you, at the situation. It...wasn't fair. Things happen. Accidents happen. Life doesn't always turn out the way we..."

"Stop _lying_. Stop it with the empty platitudes. It's pathetic."

"I'm not lying. I don't know what you want me to say. I feel like no matter what I say, you're going to find some way to misconstrue it..."

"That's because you're full of shit. Tell me how much you hate me. Tell me how you suspected that I had the hots for her. Tell me how you think that's why we were together that night. Tell me how you resent the fact that my addiction to alcohol cost Amber her life. Tell me how much you hate that I drag you into my insanity over and over again, and never seem the least bit remorseful about the damage it causes. Tell me."

"Why do I need to do that, House? You clearly already know exactly how I feel."

"You need to say it."

"I hated you, House. _Past_ tense. The second I realized she was dead, I hated you. But...I hated myself too. I hated myself for asking you to risk your life. I walked away from you because I was ashamed of myself. I was ashamed that I could have killed you. I almost _did_ kill you, and you refused to hold it against me. You didn't even hesitate. God, you shouldn't have even been treating her in the first place. I wanted to tell you _no_. But I was afraid whatever was wrong with her, those other doctors wouldn't figure out. It never occured to me that you wouldn't be able to save her. I asked you to sacrifice yourself and you complied and...that's wrong. You should have said _no_."

"You would have hated me either way."

"Maybe. But...it was wrong of me to take advantage of your willingness to preserve our friendship, at any cost."

"..."

"I meant what I said about us not being friends, House. I meant it because...at the time, we weren't and it seemed like maybe we'd never been. But that wasn't about you. It was about me. Friends don't ask friends to...drill holes and stick _electrodes_ into their already damaged brains. Friends don't ask friends to treat other friends. Friends don't...God, I don't know. I'm tired of talking about this."

"..."

"Please say something."

"You've got about ten minutes until they take you into the OR."

"Are you deflecting?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to respond to what I've said?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"I...can't."

"You're afraid you might become emotional?"

"No, I _know_ I will."

"So what? That's normal, House. Normal people cry about things. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I just can't do this here, Wilson...not with you. I can't do it at all."

"Why not?"

"..."

"House?"

"I should go. They're going to be coming for you."

"I told you, I want you here."

"No, you don't. You want _her_ here. Thing is, I'm always going to be me, Wilson. No matter what happens...I'm never going to be her."

"She's dead, House. Only you could still perceive her as a threat to our relationship."

"She will _always_ be a threat to our relationship."

"House...she's gone. She's dead. She's not coming back. How much more out of the way could she possibly get?"

"..."

"What?"

"Is that why you've erected a shrine to her in our apartment?"

"..."

"Is that why you've hung so many pictures of her, that I couldn't possibly have my eyes open in any room and_ not_ see one?"

"I don't have the right to put up pictures?"

"Of course you do. Just not over every square inch of the living space we share."

"I want to remember her, House. It's part of the grieving process. How can you _not _understand? I mean, _you_ put up a picture of your father, for God's sake. And you've hated him as long as I can remember..."

"My father has never been a threat to our relationship. How would you feel if I put up a few pictures of Stacy?"

"I'd be surprised if you even _owned_ any pictures of Stacy."

"..."

"I'm over it, House. I'm...I know it doesn't seem like it. But I've moved on."

"And yet you still talk to her."

"..."

"And you carry on all of those creepy, little one-sided conversations."

"..."

"In the shower, in the kitchen when you think I'm not listening...you're telling her about your day, about what you ate, about which patient of yours finally kicked the bucket."

"God...you heard that?"

"..."

"Why didn't you say something?"

"The fact that I told you I thought I was experiencing auditory hallucinations should have been your tip off."

"You said you were picking up a radio signal in your foreign dental work."

"I have been known to lie."

"Why would you lie?"

"The spare you the humiliation."

"Good of you."

"What I don't get is...you tell her things that you'd never tell me."

"..."

"I know you want her here. I know that you'd rather talk to your dead girlfriend than me."

"That's not true. I'm just doing it because...it's not about _her_ per se. It's...therapeutic."

"And I guess talking to me wouldn't be."

"No, House. Sorry but...it wouldn't."

"Which is precisely why I need to go."

"Wait...I don't know what I'm saying."

"I actually think you do."

"Okay, I do. But listen...House, please. Just listen."

"I don't want to be the thing you settle for."

"I'm not settling."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not. Stop...stop putting words in my mouth."

"If she were still alive, you'd still be together."

"But she's _not_ alive, House. How...how do you know that wasn't how it was meant to be?"

"How can you even think that?"

"..."

"She wasn't supposed to die, Wilson. _She_ was supposed to live. You two were supposed to be young and beautiful and live happily ever after. And me, I was supposed to quietly disappear and end up alone."

"But you're _not_ alone."

"I'm always going to be alone. Even when I'm with you, I'm alone. In a crowded room, I'm still alone."

"I don't know how to reply to that."

"Then don't."

"..."

"I've got to go. You don't need me for this."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't."

"Do you really want to leave it like this?"

"Got to leave it somewhere. This is as good a place as any."

"..."

"House...I don't want you to go."

"Why?"

"I don't want us to fight like this...not right now."

"Why?"

"I don't want to wake up alone."

"No kidding. Been there, done that."

"..."

"Right. Well, I'm going now."

"I'm...sorry."

"Yeah? For what?"

"..."

"God, you can't even say._ This_ is why you and I will never be more than just..."

"I'm sorry, okay? Just listen to me...just give me a second to organize my thoughts."

"..."

"I don't regret leaving. I'm not sorry for being angry. But I'm sorry for...hurting you. I'm sorry I ignored you. I'm sorry for being selfish, for assuming that your being responsible for Amber's death meant that you were obligated to risk your life. I hated you for a while. I'm not going to say that I didn't. But I got over it. And I promise that I never _ever_ wanted you dead."

"Uh huh. You're doing great so far. Go on."

"I don't know what else you want me to say."

"You've got about four and a half minutes to figure it out."

"Wait...this is some kind of test?"

"If it is, you're failing."

"..."

"Four minutes and fifteen seconds..."

"I shouldn't have pushed you away...after. I should have leaned on you instead. I shouldn't have assumed you weren't up to the task. I should have asked how you were doing. I shouldn't have assumed you'd hate me for asking you to do the deep brain stimulation. I should have just talked to you about it."

"And?"

"And what?"

"_And_?"

"And...I don't know, House. I don't know what you want me to say. Help me out here. Give me a hint."

"Kind of defeats the purpose of you figuring it out on your own."

"..."

"Three minutes, forty-eight seconds."

"Okay, fine...fine. I'll never ask you to risk your life again, House."

"..."

"But I don't want you to risk either."

"..."

"So...no more risks."

"..."

"I'm serious. If you want us...if we're going to be like...no more risks, House."

"Why?"

"What do you mean _why_?"

"I mean why do you care if I risk my life?"

"I would have thought that was obvious."

"Then you should have no trouble answering."

"Because...you're my friend. And recently...more than my friend."

"Getting warmer."

"Okay...you're...important to me."

"How important?"

"I don't understand."

"It's a simple question. How important am I?"

"I...wouldn't even know how to gauge something like that."

"Comparatively speaking."

"Comparative to what?"

"I'm a person. So I'm thinking maybe...other people?"

"Right. You're important, House. You're more important than...my job?"

"Your _job_ is a person?"

"I give up, then. I have no idea what you want to hear. You're the most important thing in my life?"

"I'm a thing?"

"_Person_. You're the most important person in my life."

"..."

"Please say something. Please say you'll stay."

"Okay."

"Seriously? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Wait...what? Why now? Why not...five minutes ago?"

"You know why."

"..."

"I seriously didn't think you'd get there."

"You mean...all this time, you've been...wanting to hear_ this_?"

"I've definitely been wanting...something."

"But...this?"

"..."

"What?"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say either, Wilson."

"That's okay. It means a lot that you're trying."

"So you _do_ know that I'm trying."

"Yes."

"Nice of you to mention it."

"I'm sorry I didn't acknowledge it sooner. You've...made a lot of personal progress, House."

"..."

"Kiss me."

"What?"

"On the mouth."

"You mean right here?"

"Yeah."

"People can see us, Wilson."

"I don't care."

"Yes, you do."

"..."

"You want our first kiss to be in the surgical procedure prep room, two minutes before you have a tumor removed from your left testicle? It's kinky, I'll admit..."

"I could die today. I don't want to do it without kissing you first."

"You're not going to die, Wilson. Chances are less than one percent."

"You don't know that."

"Actually I do. I looked it up."

"Of course you did."

"You're not going to die from _this_ surgery."

"You could die from _any_ surgery."

"You have none of the risk factors. You're not overweight or over the age of sixty. You don't have a history of blood clots, hypertension or respiratory issues..."

"Are you going to kiss me or not?"

"…"

"You know I have a hard time with loss."

"And that's why I should kiss you? No, that's not manipulative at all."

"I thought you_ wanted_ to kiss me."

"Doesn't mean I want to do it here, with two dozen hospital employees and three Cuddy-manned surveillance cameras watching."

"I thought you didn't care what people thought of you."

"I don't."

"I don't want to lose this, House."

"You won't."

"I mean it. We've never been this close. You tell me what you're feeling. You actually talk to me. You're honest about your…addictions, tell me when you feel like using, let me help you through it. You let me in. I don't want to lose it."

"You won't. You're going to do the surgery and they're going to find the tumor and cut it out and if they have to, they'll remove your testicle and then you're going to be fine."

"Sure, fine…minus one testicle."

"The other one will just have to do twice as much work."

"You don't care if I'm missing a testicle?"

"It's_ your_ body."

"I love you."

"..."

"Say it back."

"..."

"Because someone might hear?"

"No...because _you_ might hear."

"I could die. Don't you want to be left with the comfort of knowing that you told me you loved me, before I died?"

"No, because you're not going to die."

"So?"

"So I can tell you later."

"..."

"And you already know."

"Do I?"

"You'd better."

"…"

"I've never seen you with your head shaved."

"You'll love it."

"..."

"What?"

"I'm doing this all wrong."

"No, House...you're not."

"I'm…I'm supposed to be…you want me to hold your hand?"

"You can. I don't need you to."

"Just tell me the truth, Wilson."

"Yes...I want you to hold my hand."

"..."

"What?"

"I suck at this."

"No...you actually don't."

"I want to be there. I want to be what you need. I want to be...normal."

"Normal's overrated."

"Normal's called _normal _for a reason. Because it's normal."

"I'm serious. It's overrated. I know I seem to place a lot of importance on what's...normal. But the truth is that you are what I need, House...normal or not. And I don't...want you to be uncomfortable."

"I already told you, I don't care what people think."

"Then kiss me."

"Ah...thus proving that I don't care."

"Exactly."

"Very sneaky."

"I know."

"You're sure."

"Positive."

"You can't undo it, once it's done. We can never go back."

"I know that."

"Open mouth or...closed?"

"Open is fine."

"So...is tongue allowed or should I be..."

"Would you stop obsessing and just kiss me already?"

"..."

"..."

"Happy now?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Because I think that nurse just choked on her gum."


	26. Discipline

_**PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_

_This is something I wrote only as a reference for chapter 5 of this story. I was reluctant to post it, because I was afraid people would miss the point. It's not my intention to paint the picture of an abusive parent here.__ The point of this is how good intentions can go bad when methods are flawed._

_References to corporal punishment being used on children. If you think that will upset you, please don't read it anyway and then comment to tell me how upset you are. Thank you._

* * *

**Discipline**

"I think you've got something to tell me, young man."

"..."

"Gregory?"

"What?"

"I'm speaking to you, son. You need to respond."

"Yes, sir."

"I said, I think you have something to tell me."

"About what?"

"About what happened at school today."

"Nuh uh."

"What do you mean _nuh uh_?"

"Mom _already_ told you."

"And how do you know that?"

"I d'know."

"So you were listening to us talking in the kitchen?"

"..."

"What did I tell you about eavesdropping?"

"Not to do it?"

"And you did it anyway. Why?"

"I d'know."

"Yes, your mother and I spoke. Now I'd like to hear it from you."

"…"

"What happened at school today, son?"

"I d'know."

"You _don't know_?"

"I mean, nothing."

"Nothing. Are you _absolutely_ sure?"

"..."

"So Mrs. Kendrick was lying to your mother then."

"..."

"Are you calling your teacher a liar? She seemed to think something happened today that was worthy of our attention."

"Yes, sir. I mean, no."

"Well...which is it, son? It can't very well be both."

"Yes."

"So something _did _happen at school today."

"Yes, sir. Something happened."

"Then why did you lie to me, just now?"

"…"

"Gregory?"

"I d'know."

"So…out with it. Why did you get in trouble today?"

"Mom already told you."

"Yes, we've established that already. Now I would like to hear it from you."

"I said…something."

"And what did you say?"

"…"

"_Out_ with it."

"I…used a bad word."

"Uh huh. Which word did you use?"

"…"

"Gregory, stop shrugging your shoulders and giving me the blank stare and answer the question."

"..."

"Cat got your tongue?"

"You already know what I said."

"Yes, I do. But I want to hear it from you."

"You're just going to get mad if I repeat it."

"Then give me a hint."

"…"

"I can't hear you, son. Funny how you're plenty loud the rest of the time. Can't shut you up for five minutes. When I need you to talk, you're as quiet as a church mouse."

"..."

"Can you at least tell me what letter it started with?"

"F?"

"Yeah, I think I can tell where that's going."

"..."

"And where exactly did you hear that word?"

"I d'know."

"Other kids? Other men around the base, maybe?"

"Maybe."

"Which?"

"Both?"

"You sound like you're not sure."

"It's both."

"I'd like to think that I've raised you well enough, that you know better than to repeat everything you hear."

"Yes, sir."

"So why did you see fit to use this particular word, in the presence of your teacher and your classmates?"

"I d'know."

"_I don't know? _You say that an awful lot, Greg. Have you noticed that?"

"..."

"You don't know why you're saying something, and yet you're saying it anyway."

"Yes, sir."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I d'know."

"Do you see where that could be a problem?"

"…"

"I can't hear you..."

"_Yes, sir_."

"And how might that be a problem?"

"…"

"Answer me, boy. Don't just keep shrugging your shoulders."

"I should think before I speak?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I should think before I speak."

"Yes, you should."

"..."

"We've had this same exact conversation before, haven't we?"

"Yes, sir."

"How many times have we had this conversation, Gregory?"

"Um...I didn't count, sir."

"You think you're pretty funny, don't you?"

"No, sir."

"And how many more times before this particular lesson finally gets through?"

"I d'know."

"Again with the_ I don't know_. It's always _I don't know_, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wipe that stupid grin off your face."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, smart ass. To the bathroom."

"For what?"

"First of all, you don't ask me _for what?_ You say _yes sir, I will_. Second, you told a bold faced lie when I asked you what happened today, which I will not tolerate. I expect obedience. I expect you to tell me the truth and to it promptly. So I intend to wash out your lying mouth with soap."

"…"

"Not smilin' now, are ya?"

"..."

"Don't start with me. I haven't even begun to give you a reason to cry."

"…"

"Greg…let's get this over with. Open your mouth."

"..."

"Yes, it _is_ going to taste bad. This is nothing compared to the foul tasting soap they had when I was a kid. Course your granny would use vinegar and cayenne pepper on my brother and sisters and me. You should be grateful that I don't."

"..."

"Open _up_."

"Can I get a cup of water first?"

"You don't need a cup of water. When we're done here, you can have all the water you want from the tap. It's _right there_."

"I want a cup."

"Oh, for God's sake. Open up."

"..."

"Open up, Greg."

"..."

"That's more like it. One whole minute, starting..._now_."

"..."

"You got another forty-five seconds to go."

"M'gung thrup."

"_No_, you're not going to throw up. Give me a break. It's just a bar of soap."

"..."

"You've got thirty-three more seconds. Suck it up."

"..."

"You roll your eyes at me again, young man, and I'll start the clock over."

"…"

"Twenty seconds."

"..."

"Five seconds..."

"..."

"Alrighty then…that's it. Are you going to lie to me again?"

"…"

"Answer me, Greg."

"M'rinsing."

"..."

"I'll give you another ten seconds to finish rinsing out your mouth. Then you _will_ answer me."

"..."

"Are you going to lie to me again?"

"No, _sir_."

"That's right. Now go on back to your room and don't even think about asking me _for what_."

"…"

"Don't you start crying either, young man, or I'll give you a reason."

"…"

"You got the soap for lying. You're getting the belt for using foul language and disrespecting your teacher. Let's hope for your sake that this lesson sticks."

"…"

"Come on. Let's do this."

"…"

"Don't make me wait, boy. Be a man about it and do it yourself."

"…"

"Speak up. Stop mumbling."

"I said…_how many?_

"You'll find out when I give them to you."

"..."

"Stop pouting. You already got the soap for lying. So let's say...five licks for swearing. Sounds fair to me."

"..."

"Doesn't that sound fair, Greg?"

"..."

"I can't hear you."

"Yes, sir. It sounds fair."

"Okay, then. Let's hear it."

"..."

"Gregory, stop dilly dallying. Let's hear it."

"…"

"If we finish this up quick, you can still make it downstairs for dinner. If you keep screwing around, you're going straight to bed and you won't be eating until breakfast tomorrow morning. So what's it going to be?"

"Can't you just _do_ it?"

"I could ask you the same."

"..."

"I can sit here all night, if I have to. I've waited out _way_ more stubborn folks than you."

"…"

"I can't hear you. Speak up."

"I said…_please discipline me, sir._"

"That's better. If there's a next time, and we both know there will be, you'll say it loudly and won't make me ask twice."

"…"

"Alright...move your hands, son."

"…"

"I'm sure you'd much rather that I hit your rear end than your hands. You might want to move them out of the way."

"..."

"Greg, I _really_ don't want to hit your hands..."

"..."

"Thank you."

"Ouch...Jesus."

"Watch your mouth. That's why you're in this mess to begin with."

"..."

"Don't act so surprised. It's _supposed_ to hurt."

"..."

"What?"

"_Please_ stop....that's enough, Okay? I...I won't say that word again."

"Oh, for God's sake...you'd think I was beating you to death."

"..."

"You've got four more. Move your hands so we can finish this."

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I won't say that word ever again. I promise."

"It's always _Daddy _when you're in trouble, isn't it? I'd rather you call me _sir _and abide by the rules. You cannot appeal to my sympathy, son. I have no sympathy for someone who intentionally makes the same mistakes over and over again. A few minutes ago, you looked me in the eye and lied, and then you smiled about it. It's just five licks. The least you can do is take them like a man."

"…"

"Alright...four more. Let's go."

"..."

"Move your hands Gregory John. Or I will move them for you, and you won't like it one bit."

"…"

"You're making this much harder than it needs to be."

"..."

"Three more."

"..."

"Greg...seriously. We could have been done by now. Move your hands."

"..."

"Stop blubbering. This is nothing compared to what you're grandpap used to do to me, and I at least learned something from it."

"…"

"Two more. Move your hands."

"..."

"Gregory. Move your damn hands and put them on the bed. Now."

"..."

"Now keep 'em there until I'm finished."

"..."

"One more."

"..."

"Okay, that's all. You're done. What have you got to say to me?"

"…"

"Stop crying. For God's sake, I've hardly even left a mark on you. What have you got to say to me, son?"

"…"

"I'm going to count to five, and if you haven't said what needs to be said, I'll be adding another five licks to the tally."

"…"

"One…"

"…"

"Two…"

"Thank...you."

"Thank you _what?"_

"Thank you, _sir_."

"For what?"

"Thank you for…duh…dis…"

"_Disciplining _me."

"Thank you for _duh...disciplining me_."

"For _what?"_

"For…for…lying and uh…"

"_Using foul language_."

"For using foul language."

"And _disrespecting your teacher and classmates_."

"And…duh…duh…disrespecting my teacher and classmates."

"Now pull up your pants and go get ready for dinner. Blow your nose and wash your face."

"..."

"You're ten years old already. You're not a baby anymore. It's bad enough your mother knows what filth came out of your mouth earlier today. You don't want her knowing that you whined and fussed your way through this ordeal, do you?"

"..."

"_Do _you?"

"No, sir."

"I thought not. I don't want to have to have this conversation again, Gregory. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Because next time I _will_ leave a mark on you and then you'll definitely have something to cry about. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."


	27. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 17

_Session between House and Nolan; takes place after Known Unknowns._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"Good morning Greg."

"..."

"What the hell happened to your face?"

"Nothing."

"That's…a whole lot of _nothing_."

"..."

"Is your nose broken?"

"It's fine."

"It doesn't look _fine_."

"Well, it is."

"So you're not going to tell me what happened?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"..."

"I...had a little accident. It's no big deal. I'm fine."

"What sort of accident?"

"I tripped over the ottoman in my office."

"Um…no."

"What do you mean, _no_?"

"Well for starters, the rest of your body appears to be fine."

"So?"

"So if you'd tripped over something, you'd probably have had your cane with you."

"Not necessarily."

"But you'd have at least attempted to break your fall...with something _other_ than your face. You'd have injured your wrists or knees or forearms instead."

"Oh, aren't you clever."

"Been playing any contact sports?"

"What do you think?"

"I think someone must have punched you."

"..."

"So…who was it?"

"As far as you're concerned, no one."

"I see. You don't want to tell me. That's okay."

"Right."

"And as you're so fond of reminding me, I can't _make_ you disclose anything."

"And yet that doesn't seem to stop you from trying to weasel it out of me."

"I'm just doing my job. My patient was assaulted by someone. You might be in danger. I'm professionally obligated to inquire about it."

"I'm not _in danger_."

"Perhaps you're concerned that I'll report them."

"It wasn't...it's not...I'm _not_ in danger. That's all you need to know."

"Perhaps you're just embarrassed then."

"I'm not embarrassed either."

"Then why not just tell me?"

"Because I don't see the point in dwelling on it."

"Mmm hmm."

"..."

"..."

"If you really must know, it was Dr. Chase."

"Your former fellow?"

"He's actually working for me again."

"Ah."

"What do you mean _ah_?"

"What does _ah_ usually mean?"

"It was a loaded _ah_."

"No, it wasn't. I'm just acknowledging the information."

"_If you say so_."

"Why do you think he hit you?"

"I have no idea."

"I seriously doubt it."

"Why?"

"Because normally that would bother you."

"What would?"

"You like to know everything. Even if you weren't one hundred percent sure of the reason for something, you'd have speculated by now."

"Yep."

"Yep...you've speculated?"

"Yep."

"And?"

"And I may have...said something inappropriate."

"I imagine you say a lot of appropriate things."

"So?"

"So...he's known you for at least five or six years. He's probably heard you say a lot of inappropriate things. Why hit you now?"

"I don't know."

"Again...I doubt that very much."

"He was obviously upset about something."

"About what?"

"His wife left him."

"When did this happen?"

"A few days ago."

"Why did she do that?"

"It's...complicated."

"So they're legally separated?"

"As far as I know she filed for an annulment."

"They haven't been married that long then."

"They were married the day I was admitted."

"I see. So...a little over ten months. That's not very long. Why did they break up?"

"Like I said, it's complicated."

"So what did you say exactly to provoke Dr. Chase?"

"I don't remember."

"Try."

"I made a crack about his wife."

"The soon to be ex."

"Yeah."

"And then he just punched you."

"Yeah."

"Given his recent break-up, I'd say he was probably sensitive about that subject."

"Apparently."

"But you must have known that at the time."

"..."

"Were there other people present to witness this...altercation?"

"Yeah."

"Who?"

"The rest of my team."

"Hmm. And how do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"About being punched by a subordinate in front of other subordinates."

"I don't know."

"You don't know how you feel?"

"I totally had it coming."

"Because of what you said?"

"Yeah."

"What _did_ you say?"

"..."

"So you're ashamed, not of being punched, but of what you said. That's interesting."

"I'm not _ashamed_."

"I think it's good."

"You think it's good that I got punched?"

"No. I think it's good that you know the difference between right and wrong. Being ashamed of ourselves when we say and do things that we shouldn't, is a sign of positive mental health."

"Right."

"You don't agree?"

"I never said I was ashamed. _You_ did."

"Then why not just tell me what you said?"

"Because it's irrelevant."

"You say that a lot, usually in regards to things are _very_ relevant."

"I was doing a differential. My team was out of ideas."

"So you berated them as a backwards attempt at encouragement?"

"I was fishing for answers...I told him that his wife would have come up with the diagnosis by now."

"Really."

"..."

"_Would_ she have come up with the diagnosis?"

"I actually don't know. Maybe."

"Sounds like you knew it was wrong at the time, and you said it anyway. Why?"

"I don't know."

"You have a history of this."

"..."

"Did he receive any disciplinary action for assaulting you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I wasn't going to rat him out to Cuddy."

"But surely someone else must have."

"They did."

"And he didn't get into trouble?"

"I denied that it happened."

"Why would you do that?"

"..."

"Someone broke your face and your first instinct was to defend them. Why?"

"He didn't _break_ my face."

"You sure about that? I have a mirror in my desk if you want to take a better look."

"It's not like...he's not a violent person. He would never do anything like that again. It was just an isolated instance."

"How do you feel about Dr. Chase?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, do you like him as a person?"

"He's a good doctor."

"That's not what I asked."

"..."

"This is the same young man that appeared in your recurring dreams about the bus crash, is it not?"

"Damn you and your copious note taking."

"So he must mean _something _to you."

"..."

"So what _does_ he mean to you?"

"..."

"You don't know what he means to you. You just know that he means something."

"..."

"Why is it so hard for you to admit that someone is important to you?"

"..."

"Perhaps you're excusing him, because you subconsciously think you deserve to be treated badly by the people that you care about."

"..."

"You punched him before, right?"

"You think he waited three years to hit me back? Talk about slow reflexes."

"You told me in an earlier session that Dr. Cuddy set up a trip wire outside of your office."

"So?"

"So you dismissed that as well, even though you could have been seriously injured."

"..."

"When's the last time someone assaulted you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, prior to these two incidents, when was the last time someone assaulted you...did something that caused you physical harm?"

"God...I don't know. I don't keep track."

"You've been assaulted _that_ many times?"

"Heh...yes."

"Try hard to remember the last time."

"I think...2006?"

"What happened then?"

"A cop tripped me."

"You mean on purpose?"

"Pretty sure, yeah."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because I was rude to him."

"I see. Did you report him for assaulting you?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"I didn't see the point."

"But surely you must have taken some sort of action. I can't picture you allowing someone to just trip you like that."

"..."

"Did anyone else witness this?"

"No."

"Where did this take place?"

"In the clinic."

"So he was a patient, and you were in an exam room."

"Yeah."

"What was he there for?"

"He thought...he had a rash on his penis."

"What kind of rash?"

"Just from heat and moisture and friction. Diaper rash, basically."

"And you made an inappropriate comment about that?"

"No. He...wanted me to swab it."

"And?"

"And I refused."

"Why?"

"Because it wasn't an infection. It was a rash."

"You were certain of that fact."

"Yes."

"Certain enough that you didn't see the point in just humoring him."

"He was wrong."

"I see. That's very important to you, isn't it?"

"..."

"I know you have issues with authority figures. Did you know he was a police officer at the time?"

"No."

"Would that have affected your judgment, if you had?"

"Probably not."

"So he was angry that you weren't taking his concerns seriously and tripped you."

"Correct."

"Were you injured?"

"Not really."

"What does that mean..._not really_?"

"I tweaked my ankle a little. But it was nothing serious."

"You don't think_ tweaking_ your ankle is serious?"

"..."

"So what did you do next?"

"I agreed to swab his crotch."

"_After_ he tripped you?"

"Yeah."

"Just like that. He tripped you and you complied with his wishes."

'Yeah."

"I don't believe you."

"I may have also told him that I needed a rectal temperature."

"For what?"

"To confirm that he had an infection."

"Why couldn't you take it orally or tympanically?"

"..."

"So I take it your goal was to humiliate him."

"Naturally."

"And he allowed you to do this?"

"Yep."

"Did he end up having a fever?"

"Nope."

"But you still got the rectal temperature reading."

"I never actually got the reading."

"Why not?"

"I...left him alone in the exam room."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, once I inserted the thermometer."

"You just stuck the thermometer in his rectum and left him there to wait?"

"Yep."

"What did you do with the culture you took?"

"Threw it out."

"And how did this man respond to your treatment?"

"He spoke with Dr. Cuddy and demanded that I apologize."

"I take it you said _no_."

"..."

"And it didn't occur to you to mention the fact that you'd been tripped to Dr. Cuddy."

"It wouldn't have accomplished anything."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"..."

"At what point did you figure out that he was a cop?"

"He followed me home from work that evening, pulled me over and had me arrested."

"For what?"

"Driving without a license...and under the influence of narcotics."

"Of Vicodin."

"Yeah."

"Did you furnish him with a prescription?"

"I tried."

"Tried?"

"It was successful at first. Until he searched my apartment and found a buttload of pills."

"Ah. So you couldn't very well have had a prescription for all of them."

"..."

"How did you acquire so many pills?"

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know."

"Right. And why didn't you have your license on you?"

"I don't always carry it."

"Why not?"

"I just don't."

"Forgive me, but that's pretty stupid."

"You're forgiven."

"If you'd known he was a cop, would you have apologized?"

"I don't know...maybe. Probably not."

"So this man assaulted you and you just allowed it. That concerns me."

"I didn't _allow_ it. I stuck a thermometer up his ass."

"But you never asserted your right to _not_ be assaulted."

"It wasn't a big deal."

"It _is_ a big deal. You habitually make excuses for the people who cause you harm. Why?"

"..."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Since when do you need my permission?"

"Well it's...it might make you uncomfortable. Actually I know it will."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"Okay. I'm curious, outside of that one time that you were arrested, did your father ever discipline you in front of other people?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, when your father pulled you aside for a lecture or a spanking or punished you in some other capacity, did he ever do it in front of other people?"

"Maybe. I don't remember."

"Try."

"Probably."

"Is probably more or less than fifty percent?"

"...more."

"Did he ever do it in front of your mother?"

"Maybe once or twice."

"Only once or twice?"

"She...usually she would find somewhere else to be."

"Why?"

"She didn't like to...hear it happening."

"What do you mean by that?"

"What else would I mean?"

"She didn't like hearing you in pain."

"Apparently not."

"What about at school?"

"What _about_ at school?"

"We're you ever disciplined in school, in front of your peers?"

"I got paddled a few times...more than a few times actually."

"For what?"

"Uh...passing notes in class, stealing out of other kids' desks, using foul language, truancy, fights, tardies, being disruptive, being disrespectful..."

"So you were frequently in trouble."

"Haven't I told you that already?"

"How many times were you paddled?"

"I didn't count."

"Ballpark figure."

"Maybe...ten or twenty times. Could have been more. We moved around a lot. I lost track."

"..."

"Why are you asking me about this?"

"I'm trying to figure out at what point you became okay with the idea of being injured or humiliated."

"I was never paddled in front of the other kids."

"You weren't."

"I'd...you had to go to the principal's office for that."

"But surely if you had to leave class, your peers must have been aware of the reason."

"Yeah."

"Did they ever mock or tease you?"

"Probably at some point."

"But you don't remember."

"..."

"The reason I ask is because your behavior towards this event is very indicative of someone who has been a victim of some form of abuse. Considering what you've told me about your father's disciplinary methods...that would make sense."

"I'm not...I wasn't a _victim_."

"It's okay if you were."

"Right."

"It's not okay for people to assault you, Greg."

"Right."

"Just like with your father....you were poorly behaved. Yes, you deserved to be punished in some capacity. But that doesn't necessarily absolve him of his excessive behavior. You were rude to a patient. But that doesn't give him the right to trip you. You were making Dr. Cuddy's job more difficult. But that doesn't give her the right to exact revenge. You were insensitive and rude to Dr. Chase. But that doesn't make it okay for him to punch you."

"He apologized."

"Who?"

"Chase."

"He did."

"..."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"How am I _supposed_ to feel about it?"

"You accepted his apology?"

"I had no reason not to."

"Do you believe that he was sorry?"

"I'm sure he is."

"Why?"

"I told you...he's not a violent person."

"What about Dr. Cuddy?"

"She's not violent either."

"Did she apologize for setting up the trip wire?"

"More or less."

"What does that mean, _more or less_?"

"She said she was sorry for being petty, admitted that it wasn't my fault that she had to do her job and raise a child at the same time."

"So she didn't apologize for specific misdeeds."

"No."

"Hmm."

"..."

"Did your father ever hit you anywhere other than your rear end?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me about that."

"He smacked me across the face a few times."

"When?"

"I don't remember exactly."

"Try."

"I know this one time, I was about fourteen. I said something at the dinner table and he stood up, reached across the table and slapped me."

"How hard?"

"Hard enough to knock me out of my chair."

"That's pretty hard."

"..."

"How did your mother react to that?"

"I don't remember."

"What about in some other capacity? Was he ever violent towards you?"

"Sometimes he would grab me by the arms or shoulders."

"When he was angry."

"No."

"No?"

"You don't understand. He didn't _get _angry."

"Ever? What do you mean by that?"

"He didn't get angry. Even when he was punishing me, he was always...well for lack of a better term, _professional _about it."

"Professional?"

"I just mean...he never struck me in anger."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"I...think it would have been a lot less creepy if he had gotten angry."

"You _wanted_ him to get angry."

"No...I just..."

"What?"

"I wanted him to be...human."

"..."

"So you think he maintained that facade at the expense of his own humanity."

"Yes."

"I could make a similar observation about you."

"Eh...I get angry plenty."

"But you have a history of not allowing yourself to feel your feelings. You have a history of insisting you_ have_ no feelings."

"..."

"I'm wondering if your inability to assert your rights is in any way related to your father and his treatment of you."

"I'm not...whatever."

"I know you don't see anything wrong with it. But from my perspective, I see someone who has grown accustomed to allowing other people to think whatever they want about him, whether it's true or not. I see someone who allows people to do whatever they want to him, whether it's right or not. The natural conclusion would be that you either consciously or subconsciously think you deserve it."

"..."

"How do you feel when these things happen?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, when you tripped over that wire that Dr. Cuddy set, when you were being punched by Chase, when your dad was scolding you in front of your peers...how did you feel?"

"..."

"Were you embarrassed?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you think so little of yourself, that you can barely manage to be embarrassed. Because embarrassment implies a certain degree of self respect."

"..."

"You need to learn to say _no_, Greg. You need to learn to establish boundaries, let the people in your life know that there's only so much you're willing to tolerate."

"Yeah, so you've said. And given my own behavior, I'm sure they'll interpret that as being incredibly hypocritical."

"So you _deserve_ to be hurt."

"..."

"Why do you believe that?"

"I don't...I'm just saying that I'm not in any position to be making demands."

"Why not?"

"..."

"What makes you so terrible?"

"..."

"I really want to know. Because I can't see it. What exactly do you think it is that makes you worth _less_ than other human beings?"

"I don't know."

"But you agree that you feel that way."

"I...don't know."

"It's possible that I'm the first person to ever tell you this, Greg. But regardless of whatever you perceive to be your shortcomings, you deserve to be treated decently. You deserve to be appreciated. You deserve to be loved. You do not exist just for other people to use and abuse. You are more than just your job or your intelligence, or your diagnostic skills."

"Just because someone deserves something, doesn't mean they'll get it."

"You've got to fight for yourself Greg. You can't always depend on other people to do the_ right thing_."

"..."

"Plants need sunlight to survive, right?"

"Oh boy, another metaphor."

"Just humor me."

"Fine."

"Plants need light for photosynthesis. Flowers will actually grow at a specific angle, just so they can face the sun, because they know they have to do so in order to survive. The light isn't going to come to them."

"So?"

"So...it's okay to do act in your own best interest."

"I act in my own _best interest_ all the time."

"_Self _interest and _best_ interest are not the same thing."

"Right."

"It's okay to grow towards that light. It's okay to soak up whatever you can get it. You can't wait for the light to come to you."

"You're telling me to become an opportunist."

"Not at all. Not everything has to be done in the extreme. There's a happy medium between opportunist and flagellant."

"..."

"Start small, Greg."

"Meaning?"

"Next time someone asks you to do something that isn't in your best interest, outside of your professional obligations, consider just saying _no_."

"Easier said than done."

"But saying can _lead _to doing."

"Yeah."

"Okay?"

"Okay."


	28. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 18

_House has a minor setback. Okay, more like a major one. Fairly angsty and upsetting. Profanity and whatnot. I have to be honest, I'm not happy with this. But I screwed with it so much, and my first reader decided it was fine. So I'm just going to post it._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"You seem happy today, Greg."

"What do you mean I _seem_ happy? I _am_ happy."

"My mistake."

"..."

"Care to share the reason?"

"I need a reason? I can't just be happy?"

"Of course you can. But generally when people are happy, they have a reason."

"I _have_ a reason."

"And I'd love to hear it."

"See, this is the problem with you shrinks. You overanalyze everything. You can just take things at face value."

"Are you going to tell me the reason, or not?"

"I've made a decision."

"Which is?"

"I've decided that this is going to be my last session."

"Oh?"

"I've been seeing you for ten months. I'm back at work, back in a groove. I'm managing my life. I'm in a committed relationship now, and all that crap…So I won't be needing you anymore."

"I see."

"Now now...don't get your feelings hurt over it. You knew the time would eventually come for me to leave the nest."

"And you think that's what this is...you being ready to _leave the nest_?"

"You don't?"

"The point at which a person becomes ready to discontinue talk therapy is very individual."

"Which is a fancy way of saying absolutely nothing."

"Do I personally think you're ready to discontinue talk therapy? No. I honestly don't. But you're no longer legally obligated to participate."

"Good."

"I'm sure you've given this a great deal of thought."

"I have."

"I know that you're a very determined and headstrong individual, and that once you've made a decision, there's little anyone could say or do to override it."

"That's right."

"I also know that you're as high as a kite right now."

"..."

"Although I'm not entirely sure on what."

"…"

"Did you think I wouldn't be able to tell?"

"…"

"So I take it you got a hold of something. What was it...cough syrup with Codeine? Diphenhydramine? Overdo it on the Ativan? I noticed you phoned in a refill this morning, three weeks ahead of schedule."

"..."

"Hmm?"

"I'm not _high_."

"Okay."

"_Okay?"_

"Greg, I'm not an idiot. You're euphoric, your eyes are glassy and your pupils are dilated. You're on something."

"..."

"So what did you take?"

"I'm not high."

"Okay."

"You don't believe me."

"No. I'm sorry. I wish I could say that I did. But I don't."

"I'm _not_ high."

"You're_ sure_? You're absolutely sure."

"Yes."

"Alright then. If you say you're not high, then you're not high. I certainly apologize for assuming otherwise."

"..."

"..."

"It's not..."

"..."

"I took two, okay? _Two_. I'm not high. Two pills does not make you _high_."

"Two of what?"

"What do you think?"

"So two point-five milligram tablets of Ativan is the reason that you look this way now."

"..."

"I'm sorry. But I just can't believe that."

"Of course you can't."

"I trust you, Greg. But at the moment, physical evidence does not support what you're telling me."

"..."

"It had to have been more than two...three or four at the very least."

"..."

"Right?"

"Just don't."

"How many did you take?"

"Just stop. Does it give you some kind of thrill to extract this information?"

"You think this is about me?"

"..."

"It's a simple question."

"..."

"How many did you take?"

"..."

"I'm going to give you one more chance to tell me the truth, and then I'm just going to drop it. Because I refuse to waste my time talking about something that you clearly aren't prepared or willing to discuss."

"..."

"How many pills did you take?"

"I thought it would be enough."

"You thought _what _would be enough?"

"I thought...two would be good. It's been enough so far. I thought it would be enough and then I wouldn't need anymore and...I don't know."

"Has two of anything _ever _been enough? Have you ever been able to just moderate your drug use at will?"

"I wanted to feel good. Is that a crime? Is it a crime to want to feel good?"

"I don't think wanting to _feel good_ is the issue here."

"I took two, just like I always do and..."

"And it wasn't enough."

"So I took two more. Then I felt better. I felt...better than I've felt in a while. So I took two more. And before I knew it, they were all gone."

"How many is _all_?"

"Whatever was left in the bottle."

"Which is how many tablets?"

"Eighteen maybe."

"How long did it take you to go through them?"

"I don't know...ten, twelve hours."

"And you drove here like that?"

"..."

"Greg, that's a felony."

"..."

"You're lucky that you're still conscious and you made it here in one piece."

"..."

"The script says _one_ as needed for anxiety, not two, and no more than four in a twenty-four hour period. You took more than four times that much in a twelve hour period."

"..."

"How are you breathing? Are you dizzy? Any nausea or bradycardia?"

"I'm fine."

"You know that I was going to wean you off of those, starting this month. We talked about it at your last two sessions."

"..."

"How were you planning to go about getting more, when you knew that I would probably no longer be refilling your script?"

"..."

"Weren't thinking that far ahead, huh?"

"..."

"..."

"You're pissed."

"Do I look pissed?"

"..."

"Do you _want_ me to be pissed?"

"..."

"Is that your goal, to make me angry?"

"..."

"What would you hope to accomplish by making me angry?"

"..."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to feel good, Greg. That's a perfectly normal and healthy desire."

"Yeah, that's me..._normal and healthy_."

"..."

"I think I'm just...I'm gonna go."

"Whoa...now hold on. You didn't drive all the way out here to stay here for five minutes. We're going to deal with this."

"There is no _this_ and there's never going to be. You should of known that when you took me on as a patient."

"Now, what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"..."

"You think you're so far gone that you're beyond help?"

"..."

"Maybe that's what you want."

"..."

"Greg...please sit down."

"You can't _make_ me stay."

"I'm _asking_ you to stay."

"..."

"Please stay. I really think we should talk this out."

"This was never going to work."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true. Anything that can be undone with _one_ lousy bottle of pills..."

"Nothing's been _undone_. You think all the progress you've made, all the work you've done...you think everything is null and void now, because of _one_ slip?"

"It's hasn't just been _one_."

"So _what?"_

"Right. It doesn't matter what I say. I could tell you I'm snorting cocaine off a transsexual hooker's breast implants with rolled up, stolen thousand dollar bills and you'd pat me on the ass and tell me it's fine."

"I'm not saying it's _fine_, Greg. I'm saying that whatever it is you've done, you're not beyond help. It's not too late to turn it around."

"..."

"Listen to me. You're a human being. You're entitled to make mistakes."

"..."

"You are _not_ your addictions."

"..."

"That's funny?"

"No, it's pathetic._ I'm_ pathetic."

"Staying sober isn't about absolutes. It's about making it through one day at a time...sometimes one hour at a time. It's about doing whatever it takes to stay clean, for _today_."

"..."

"You have to learn to forgive yourself, to acknowledge failure and move on."

"..."

"All you failed to do was stay sober today. It's not the end of the world..."

"Enough with the platitudes, doc. I've heard it all before. I'm immune."

"I don't believe that. I think you desperately want to believe that those things could apply to you."

"..."

"I want you to be honest with me, Greg. I want you to feel like you can tell me anything, even the things you're ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed."

"Aren't you? Your expression says otherwise."

"..."

"What the hell happened?"

"Nothing."

"_Something_ happened."

"_Nothing_ happened."

"What prompted you to take the first two pills?"

"Nothing."

"So you weren't feeling anxious?"

"No more than usual."

"Where were you?"

"I was at home."

"And James?"

"Wasn't."

"So that's why you did it, because James wasn't home to stop you?"

"It's not Wilson's fault that I'm a drug addict."

"I didn't say it was his fault. But that doesn't mean there might not be some connection between him not being home and you choosing to use."

"This doesn't have anything to do with Wilson."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"..."

"I don't have a reason. I've never had a reason. I don't _need _a reason. I'm an addict."

"Everyone has a reason, Greg...for everything that they do. Even if they're not conscious of it."

"Well, I don't."

"..."

"I didn't even try. I just...went right back to my old habits. Something clicked...it was like I'd never stopped."

"Except that you _have_ stopped. Whether you want to believe it or not, that counts for something."

"..."

"Tell me about that."

"About what?"

"About what was going through your mind, when you decided to take the pills."

"I told you...nothing. I had no reason. I just did it."

"I don't believe that."

"What's the point? What difference does it make? What do you think you're going to find out?"

"The _why_ matters. It matters why you did it."

"..."

"It's okay to be disappointed with yourself, Greg."

"You know what? I'm not. I don't even care."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"You don't care right now because you're high. Later, you _will_ care. Later, you'll be forced to confront this."

"Then I'll do it again."

"You'll get high again."

"And again and again and again."

"Why?"

"Because...that's what I do. I'm an addict."

"It sounds like you're feeling sorry for yourself."

"I'm just stating a fact."

"..."

"Look, I'm...sorry."

"You don't have to apologize, at least not to me."

"..."

"The only one who you've let down is yourself."

"I haven't _let_ myself down."

"Oh, yes you have."

"It's just easier this way."

"What is?"

"..."

"Tell me what you meant by that. What's easier?"

"Everything."

"Tell me about life sober, versus being high."

"I'm not here to entertain you. If you want to know what it's like to be an addict, you can watch reality television like everyone else. Rent _Barfly_, for God's sake."

"I'm not being cute, Greg. I really want to know what it's like. I have no idea and I can't know unless you tell me."

"You've seriously _never _gotten high?"

"I smoked pot in college once."

"Who the hell am I talking to here?"

"You think my lack of personal experience with narcotics diminishes my ability to help you with your addictions."

"Uh...yeah."

"That doesn't mean I can't listen."

"..."

"I think I've done a pretty good job of listening to you so far."

"..."

"I sure would like to hear about this, so that I can help you deal with it."

"Stop talking to me like I'm eight years old."

"Stop _acting_ like you're eight years old."

"You can't help me, doc. There's nothing you can do to change this. Deal with it."

"That's not true. I think you know that it's not true. I think that scares you. I think the idea of living without drugs or alcohol scares you, and I'd really like to know why that is."

"..."

"So what's it like?"

"..."

"How do you feel when you're high?"

"_High_."

"Okay. If you don't want to take this seriously, I won't either."

"..."

"..."

"I can choose what I think about."

"When you're high?"

"Yes."

"Which implies there's something that you _don't_ want to think about."

"..."

"Having trouble articulating your thoughts?"

"No..."

"Are you sure you're breathing okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I don't think you are."

"..."

"Talk to me. Just talk. Say anything. Say whatever comes to mind. Don't worry about how you sound."

"..."

"Greg?"

"I don't know."

"What is it that you don't want to think about...work? Relationships?"

"I just said, _I don't_ _know_."

"..."

"It just...makes it easier to focus."

"Focus on what?"

"Whatever it is I want to focus on...and fuck everything else."

"Do you _want_ to fuck everything else? What's _everything else_?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe that's the problem. You're used to running away from your problems, from life. Now you have nothing to run from."

"No."

"So there _is_ something."

"I don't know."

"So what's going on in your life right now, Greg? What are you running from?"

"Nothing. Everything's...good."

"Apparently not."

"I told you, I don't need a reason. I'm an addict."

"And I told you that everything has a reason...and that there is more to you than your addictions."

"It's not...I don't know."

"..."

"I just...I wasn't prepared. But I'm fine now. I've got it under control. I'm handling it."

"Prepared for what?"

"..."

"What was it that you weren't prepared for?"

"I don't know."

"You said it for a reason."

"..."

"..."

"I just mean, I'm sure he never meant for me to find it."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be a little more specific, if you want me to understand."

"..."

"Greg?"

"I know I'm going to regret telling you this."

"I'm okay with that."

"I'm not sure that I am."

"Just tell me."

"You're going to make it into more than it is."

"I promise not to do that."

"Can't promise not to do that, when you don't even know what it is."

"Well, we'll never know unless you tell me."

"I found a note."

"What kind of note?"

"What kind of notes are there?"

"..."

"It was from Amber to Wilson...written the night that she died."

"I see. What did it say?"

"Just that she was going out to pick me up and she'd be back later."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Why do you always insist on asking that damn question?"

"Because it's my _job_ to ask that question. Because...this is clearly very relevant to whatever you're going through right now."

"..."

"Where did you find the note?"

"In his wallet."

"What were you doing in his wallet?"

"..."

"What did you do with the note, once you found it?"

"Put it in _my _wallet."

"Has he noticed that it was missing?"

"I doubt he'd mention it if he had."

"Do you have it on you?"

"Yes."

"Do you mind if I read it?"

"..."

"Hmm. It's...rather short and to the point."

"..."

"Did you ask James about it?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Why do you think?"

"I'm asking you."

"..."

"Do the two of you ever talk about Amber, about the circumstances of her death?"

"..."

"Maybe you don't _want_ to talk about it."

"..."

"You've openly stated you don't like thinking about it. Makes sense you'd want to avoid discussing it also."

"Aside from here? We talked about it once, when he was in prep."

"Before his surgery."

"..."

"I take it the surgery went well, then."

"He gets to keep his nut, if that's what you mean."

"I see. Thank you for that graphic explanation."

"..."

"So they got all the cancer?"

"..."

"Will he be doing any chemo?"

"No."

"Glad to hear it."

"He apologized."

"Apologized for what?"

"For everything."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"I guess."

"You don't sound too happy about it."

"..."

"How _do_ you feel?"

"You know...I don't know. I'm a dick."

"Wait, you _feel _like you're a dick?"

"..."

"Why?"

"..."

"You were hurt by something that someone else did. You communicated that fact to them. You requested an apology and you got one. What part of that makes you a dick?"

"..."

"Perhaps it's the _requesting _part."

"…"

"You wish he'd done it on his own."

"Maybe."

"Remember what I said…about Dr. Foreman? Sometimes people don't know that they've hurt you. Sometimes they have to be told. That doesn't make them any less sorry."

"..."

"You have a history of not asserting your needs. It makes sense you'd feel guilty for doing so."

"..."

"And why were you in his wallet to begin with?"

"Wilson tends to save his receipts."

"So you were hoping to figure out what he'd been spending his money on?"

"..."

"Why would you need to know that?"

"I was hoping to find out where he'd been."

"That's an interesting alternative to direct communication. But again, why would you need to know that?"

"..."

"Why would you need to know where he'd been? Why not just flat out ask him?"

"Because I'm a nosy bastard."

"Why do you insist on making these self deprecating comments?"

"..."

"_Are _you a nosy bastard?"

"What do you think?"

"We're all nosy, Greg. We're all inquisitive in regards to the people and things that we care about. It doesn't make you a bad person."

"..."

"I think it's important that you're able to recognize that you are _not_ your mistakes."

"..."

"You are _not_ the sum of your flaws."

"What the hell are we then, if we're not the sum of our flaws?"

"No."

"No? _What _no?"

"No, I'm not doing this. I'm not going to help you hate yourself."

"Like I need your help."

"I don't think you _need_ it. But I think you're hoping I'll give it to you. I think you're hoping that I will give up on you, so you can justify giving up on yourself. I refuse to validate your self-loathing."

"..."

"Did you ever find out where James had been?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"Nope."

"This is upsetting you."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"..."

"It's okay. This is upsetting. I'd be more worried about you, if you _weren't _emotionally affected."

"I'm not upset."

"I'm pretty sure you are."

"..."

"What?"

"..."

"You look like you want to say something."

"Nope."

"Please talk to me, Greg."

"Just stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop acting like you know what it's like to be me."

"I never claimed to know what it would be like to be you."

"But that's what you're implying. You...stop acting like you know what it's like to kill someone."

"I never claimed that either and you haven't _killed_ anyone."

"He's got pictures of her up, all over the apartment."

"So, you've told me."

"..."

"How do you feel about that?"

"How the hell do you think I feel about it?"

"It sounds like you're very angry."

"..."

"You think he's doing it to spite you?"

"..."

"You think he's trying to punish you?"

"..."

"Greg...He keeps them around because they're all he has left of someone he loved. Same reason why he's holding on to that note. It has nothing to do with you."

"Are you kidding? It has _everything_ to do with me."

"I'm sure if he knew that keeping those things was hurting you, he'd consider some alternative."

"No, he wouldn't."

"Why...because you're not that important?"

"..."

"Bullshit. We've talked about this. You can't let your ability to get over this to be dependant on his inability to let go of the past. For whatever reason, he needs to hang onto this..."

"There's is no _getting over_ this."

"That's not true. I know it feels that way..."

"_Stop_ it. _Stop_ acting like you know how I feel."

"Okay. You're right. I have no idea how you feel. I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

"And stop patronizing me. I'm not an idiot."

"I'm not trying to _patronize _you."

"..."

"What do you want me to say? I don't know how you feel. I can speculate. I can guess. But I can't know how you _actually_ feel unless you tell me. And the only way you're going to tell me is if I ask."

"..."

"Greg?"

"Just stop."

"Okay."

"..."

"Please talk to me."

"There's nothing left to say."

"Yes, there is."

"..."

"Just say whatever you're thinking."

"I never wanted to be like this."

"I know that."

"No, you really don't."

"Yes, I do."

"..."

"Just talk to me, Greg. Just keep talking."

"Why bother? What difference does it make?"

"..."

"This isn't...it's not just the pills. I've...always been like this."

"Like _what_?"

"..."

"What have you always been like?"

"I've always been an addict."

"..."

"Everyone thinks...I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. I don't know what people think."

"What does _everyone _think?"

"My pain is real, you know. But it didn't start with the Vicodin. The Vicodin just made it worse, gave me a legitimate excuse."

"So when _did_ it start?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"..."

"It's not your fault."

"Don't say that. It's bullshit."

"Why?"

"Because it _is_ my fault. I'm responsible for my own actions."

"This is a disease."

"That's just a lie people tell themselves to rationalize their own behavior...obesity is a disease, alcoholism is a disease, anorexia is a disease. Those are all choices that people make. People decide what they do. People have control."

"Assuming that's true, why would someone _choose_ addiction?"

"Because it's easy."

"It doesn't _sound_ easy."

"..."

"So you think it's just a lack of willpower."

"..."

"When did it start, Greg? When did you first make that choice?"

"The first time I got drunk, I was twelve years old."

"Tell me about that."

"I found a bottle of cooking sherry in the back of a kitchen cabinet."

"What made you drink it?"

"I don't know. It was there."

"You were old enough to know what alcohol was, what its effects were. You must have been aware of those things when you chose to drink it."

"I was tired of being afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Of life...of my dad, of trying to relate to other people my age and...failing miserably."

"And drinking helped alleviate those fears?"

"I felt numb. I felt free. I felt...normal."

"Did your parents ever notice that you'd been drinking?"

"My dad was gone a lot of the time."

"Is that a _no_?"

"My parents...treated me more like a thing than a person. I was like...a piece of furniture."

"Your feelings didn't matter."

"..."

"Did you drink enough to black out?"

"Not until I was much older."

"Did you drink enough to get sick?"

"Sometimes."

"Where would you get the alcohol?"

"My parents."

"They'd give it to you?"

"No. My dad...wasn't a heavy drinker. But he'd have people over whenever he was home. He always kept a well stocked bar."

"And he didn't notice any was missing?"

"I was careful. I'd take a little from each bottle, supplement it by buying some here and there with the money I'd earn mowing lawns and doing odd jobs. They didn't card you back then, like they do now."

"And you never got caught?"

"Nope."

"How often did you drink?"

"Usually on the weekends...Saturday night. Sunday was the only day I was ever allowed to sleep in. I'd suffer through the week, because I knew that when Saturday night came, I could get plowed again. I actually looked forward to it. It was the highlight of my life."

"What about drugs?"

"What about them?"

"When did you first experiment with drugs?"

"..."

"..."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"I really think we should."

"..."

"You're doing great sharing with me so far. I'd really like to hear more about this."

"..."

"I think you've avoided talking about this, because it's painful."

"You have no idea."

"Then _give_ me an idea, Greg. I want to know about your pain."

"..."

"Just...start when you're ready."

"My mom...took tranquilizers."

"Tell me more about that."

"I used to lift them out of her purse."

"How old were you when you did that?"

"I think I was...fourteen maybe."

"How did you find the pills? How did you know what they were?"

"She always seemed kind of glazed over. I put two and two together and realized she had to be stoned on something."

"Was _she_ an addict?"

"I don't think so, not really. She wouldn't take them all the time, just here and there. It would sometimes take her months to finish one bottle."

"I imagine she must have noticed when some of her pills were missing."

"She would never have said anything."

"Because then she'd have to acknowledge that she was taking them in the first place.

"I don't think my dad even knew about them."

"Did your mother drink?"

"Only casually."

"What other drugs did you experiment with?"

"Pfft...use your imagination."

"You tried a little of everything."

"..."

"Just give me an example."

"I'd rather not."

"I really think it would help you talk about it."

"I'd rather not."

"I'm not going to judge you."

"Why do you keep telling me that, over and over again?"

"Because I think you need to _hear_ it, over and over again."

"I used to crush diphenhydramine into powder and snort it."

"Why?"

"It was a faster, more efficient high."

"Did you ever do that with Vicodin?"

"Cold water extraction and then freebase."

"You injected it directly into your veins."

"Sometimes."

"How often did you do that?"

"Only every once in a while, when the pain was really bad."

"You could have had a heart attack or a stroke."

"I know."

"You don't care if you live or die, do you?"

"No, I guess I don't."

"..."

"I keep thinking...things are good. I have no reason to complain."

"But you're not happy."

"I've just never been."

"..."

"I'm just...so tired. I'm tired of being like this. I'm tired of...myself."

"I imagine you are."

"..."

"Tell me what you're feeling right now."

"I don't feel anything."

"Because you're high."

"Yes."

"..."

"I don't want to live like this anymore."

"Then don't."

"That's just it. You don't...it's like a merry-go-round. You can't just decide to jump off."

"You can, Greg. You can jump off whenever you want. And the landing is going to suck. But once you're off, you don't ever have to get back on. There are people who can help you._ I_ can help you."

"..."

"Whatever you decide to do, I will support it."

"Why?"

"Because...that's my job. Because that's what you need. I can't help wondering how much different your life would be if just one person had chosen to care about you unconditionally."

"There's no such thing."

"Oh no? What conditions have I set for you?"

"I have to drive all the way out here to see you."

"I offered to meet you halfway, if you recall. And I've come to you several times."

"I have to pay you for your services."

"You think that diminishes the value of my assistance?"

"..."

"What if I were to offer my services to you for free? Would you accept?"

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"If it's the difference between you getting better and you giving up on life, I think it's a worthwhile venture."

"You're crazy."

"I want you to get help. I want you to stop screwing up your own life. I want you to stop hating yourself."

"Can't always get what you want."

"How did you feel when you found that note?"

"Nah...I'm not doing this."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not going to accomplish anything. You think if you talk about things, something will change. But nothing ever changes. It's like I've been chewing on the same tasteless piece of meat for my entire life. There's nothing you can do to make it more palatable, no way for me to choke it down."

"I think you've avoided dealing with Amber's death. I think you've avoided confronting your addictions. I think _those_ are the root of your problems. I think they're both why you were hallucinating. I think they're both the source of your depression."

"..."

"I think you _would_ feel better if you talked about it."

"..."

"This pain needs to go. It doesn't have a place in your life anymore."

"..."

"You're choosing silence over getting it out of your system and moving on. Does that seem practical to you?"

"I had this patient last year, this sixteen year old emancipated minor. She ended up having leukemia. She needed a bone marrow transplant. Best match is usually an immediate family member."

"..."

"She told us her parents had died in a car accident. One of my fellows figured out that she was lying. Her parents were alive. When he confronted her about this, suggesting that we contact them for a donation, she claimed that her father had raped her and that was what had prompted her to become emancipated."

"Claimed?"

"It was just another lie."

"Why would she construct such a dreadful lie?"

"..."

"..."

"I remember walking into her room thinking...what the hell could be worse than being raped by your own father?"

"I take it you found out."

"She was supposed to be watching her baby brother. He was in the bathtub. She stepped away and...he drowned."

"And you're fixating on this. Why?"

"..."

"She didn't want to call her parents, because she was convinced that they wouldn't even care that she was dying. She said they hated her, couldn't look at her without thinking of him. She didn't want to accept their bone marrow donation, because she didn't think she deserved to live."

"Did she end up calling them?"

"Yes."

"_Did_ they hate her?"

"No."

"And you think that James can't look at you, without thinking of Amber? You think he hates you?"

"..."

"Please just tell me what you're feeling."

"Dead."

"You feel dead?"

"No...when I woke up, I remember looking around. I saw Wilson's face. It was like he was saying _it should have been you_. And I just remember...wishing I was dead. I remember thinking...maybe I should just kill myself."

"What do you think that would solve, being dead?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe _you_ don't think you deserve to live."

"It was five o'clock in the afternoon, on a Tuesday, and I was already too drunk to drive."

"I know it."

"The bartender took my keys."

"..."

"You know how many bartenders have taken my keys?"

"..."

"You know how many times Wilson has driven me home from a bar, because I was too inebriated to operate my own vehicle?"

"..."

"You know how many times I've woken up in a puddle of my own sick?"

"I think you can beat this, Greg."

"No."

"No?"

"I...don't wanna."

"I don't believe that. I think you're afraid to try, because you could fail. I think you're choosing not to try, because then the results will be predictable."

"You don't get it."

"What don't I get?"

"You have no idea what I'd be willing to do...You have no idea what I've done, the people I've hurt, the trouble I've caused."

"So tell me about it. That's why you're here."

"..."

"Nothing you tell me is going to make me care about you any less."

"Then you're a fool."

"Greg, there's nothing you could possibly have ever said or done that would render you unworthy of my assistance or concern."

"..."

"..."

"Three years ago I did the ketamine treatment. After nine weeks, the pain returned. I went to Wilson. I asked him for a script and he refused."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I stole his prescription pad."

"But he must have eventually agreed to start prescribing for you again."

"Yeah."

"How long before he did that?"

"A few days."

"And you still made use of forged prescriptions?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe you were afraid he'd cut you off again."

"Maybe."

"..."

"The cop I told you about, who searched my apartment...he found six_ hundred_ Vicodin."

"That's a lot."

"Yeah."

"And you obtained those with a false prescription?"

"Most of them, yeah."

"..."

"The cop gave me a choice, rehab or jail."

"And you chose neither?"

"..."

"He interrogated Wilson about it. Wilson lied and said he'd written the prescriptions."

"I see."

"The cop seized Wilson's assets, towed his car and suspended his treatment privileges. He refused to release them, until Wilson agreed to testify against me."

"Did he agree to?"

"No."

"How exactly did you resolve this?"

"Cuddy suspended me...said I couldn't come back to work until I took the deal."

"And you didn't."

"She refused to prescribe me any more Vicodin, and made sure no one else would either."

"You must have been rather desperate and going through withdrawal. How did you deal with it?"

"I cut myself."

"You mean, on purpose?"

"When the endorphins wore off, I went to the ER at a nearby hospital, faked an injury and tried to score drugs."

"Did it work?"

"Nope."

"And _that's_ when you stole the pills from the pharmacy."

"Yeah."

"How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"How do you feel about the fact that you'd be willing to commit a crime, just to get high?"

"Like a pathetic, miserable excuse for a human being."

"Wow...now we're getting somewhere."

"..."

"Usually when I ask you how you feel about something, you deflect. I think that's the first straight answer I've ever gotten out of you, regarding your drug addiction."

"...."

"Are you having trouble breathing?"

"It's fine."

"I want to take your blood pressure."

"It's fine."

"It's _not_ fine. You've ingested nine milligrams of Ativan in less than twelve hours. You could have a heart attack or respiratory failure."

"I can handle it."

"Would you tell me if you couldn't?"

"Yes."

"So you think I should just trust you, even though you lied about being high in the first place."

"Yes."

"Okay."

"..."

"So what was your plan, to convince me that you were happy, discontinue treatment and resume life as before...go back to drinking and popping pills?"

"..."

"Did you think I would just let you go, no questions asked?"

"I guess I was hoping."

"What you should know is that I'm in this for the long haul. I'm commited to getting you mentally and emotionally healthy, and there's no deadline on this. It takes as long as it takes."

"..."

"It's not your job to worry about me. It's my job to worry about you, and it's _your_ job to worry about you. Helping you is a choice I've made. It's something I'm doing because I _want_ to do it. Okay?"

"..."

"Tell me what you want, Greg. If you could just ask for anything and get it."

"It's...pointless."

"I doubt it."

"..."

"..."

"I guess I'd...want you to stop me."

"From doing what?"

"Everything."

"What's _everything_?"

"Taking pills, drinking, fucking up my life, alienating everyone I meet. I want..."

"..."

"I just wish you had the power to make me stop."

"Only _you_ have that power."

"If that were true, I'd have stopped by now."

"I know this might hurt you to hear, Greg. But I honestly don't think you've tried that hard to stop. I think that you believe your life sucks and that you're entitled to the high, as some kind of payback for your suffering. And you're absolutely right. You deserve something in exchange for your suffering. But drugs and alcohol are not the answer."

"..."

"What are we going to do about this?"

"I don't know."

"Either way, I don't want you driving like this. I want you to stay here for a few days, seventy-two hours at least."

"..."

"I'm not admitting you, okay? Not long term. I just want you here for a few days for observation."

"What the hell am I supposed to tell Wilson?"

"The truth."

"..."

"He thinks you're past all of this, I know. Maybe now would be a good time to tell him that you're not."

"..."

"You think he's going to leave you?"

"I think he _should_ leave me."

"Why? Because you have problems? Everyone has problems, Greg. You still deserve love and companionship."

"He talks about it all the time, how glad he is that I'm not using the Vicodin anymore."

"You think he's only with you because he's under the impression that you're drug free?"

"..."

"He'll be angry. But he loves you. He'll get over it."

"Right."

"I'm going to take your blood pressure."

"..."

"Actually, scratch that. I'm going to give you a hug. _Then_ I'm going to take your blood pressure. Then you're going to call James and tell him you're not coming home tonight."

"Can we do it without the hug?"

"I really don't see how."

"Why not?"

"Because you're hurting. Because I want you to learn how to reach out for the comfort you need."

"..."

"It's okay to cry about this."

"I'm not."

"You're sure?"

"Believe me, I wish I could."

"You'll get there...with time."

"..."

"What? What is it?"

"I'm so screwed up."

"So is everyone, Greg. Everyone is screwed up."

"..."

"But we're going to get you better."

"..."

"We have to teach you to _not_ self medicate. That's what you're doing here, Greg. You're treating your psychic pain. You're not just trying to get high. You're not just doing this because you're a bad person who makes bad choices. There's something you need that you're not getting and you're reaching out for whatever you can find to fill that void. When you couldn't get Vicodin, you moved on to alcohol, when you could get alcohol, you started abusing your anti-anxiety meds. You keep trading one vice for another. We need to break this cycle."

"How are we supposed to do that?"

"By laying it all out on the table. You've got a lot of unresolved anger that you're sitting on. You're going to have to do some serious moral inventory. You've got to get all of this out, so you can move on...talk about all the things that you've been avoiding, all the things that are hurting you. You've got to be willing to address these things without reservation."

"God...I don't know if I'm ready to do that. I don't know if I'll ever be ready to do that."

"I know it's a lot to digest. So let's wrap this up now. And we can start over tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow is Sunday."

"I already told you, I don't have set hours. I work when I'm needed, and right now, I'm needed."

"Wilson's going to be pissed."

"Then we'll deal with that together."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why me? I mean...why help me? Why not someone else."

"Someone more worthy? I don't know, Greg. I wish I had some sort of logic I could present you with."

"But you don't."

"Let's just leave it at...I like you."

"Why?"

"Why do I like you? That's a complicated question."

"..."

"I think you're a beautiful, exceptional human being, and I guess what I want is for you to think so too."

"..."

"Promise me that you'll try."

"I don't know."

"Well, you've got tonight to think about it. Tomorrow we'll start over new, okay?"

"Yeah...okay."


	29. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 19

_House has spent the night at Mayfield for observation. You will probably be irritated with him after you read this._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"How are you this morning, Greg?"

"Okay."

"How did you sleep?"

"Fine."

"Really?"

"What?"

"You're awfully calm."

"Something wrong with that?"

"I don't know, is there?"

"…"

"You shouldn't be calm, Greg. You should be incredibly anxious right now."

"Well, I'm not."

"Why not?"

"It's called willpower. I thought you'd be happy that I wasn't…freaking out, climbing the walls."

"I would be...except that considering the circumstances, you _should_ be freaking out and climbing the walls."

"…"

"You haven't had a drink in over twelve hours. I tapered you down to point five milligrams of Ativan, every six hours. You should be extremely anxious right now. You should have a fever, be sweating, nauseated, tachycardic, dehydrated, and paranoid."

"Everyone experiences withdrawal differently."

"It seems like you're not experiencing it at all."

"I don't know what you want me to say…sorry?"

"Why would you choose to employ that particular phrase?"

"…"

"You feel guilty about something, feel the need to apologize for something?"

"No."

"You look guilty, Greg."

"No, I look annoyed. This is my annoyed face. I get annoyed when people accuse me of things."

"But I haven't accused you of anything, have I?"

"..."

"What have I accused you of?"

"I don't know."

"What _should_ I be accusing you of?"

"_Nothing."_

"Unless..."

"..."

"Who'd you scam?"

"Why the hell would you assume…"

"Because it fits."

"..."

"Because you've done it before."

"Right. Thanks."

"And because that's the only logical explanation for why you wouldn't be detoxing now."

"Not necessarily."

"Dammit, Greg."

"Uh oh...somebody's mad."

"Yeah, I am."

"That's not very professional, doc. You're supposed to remain objective. You can't get emotionally involved with your patients."

"Is this a joke to you?"

"No. I'm just saying, you know…chill out."

"You're going to treat this like a joke?"

"I'm _not_."

"You're smiling."

"I can't smile? It's...funny. I'm amused."

"You think this is funny."

"You trying to be all _authoritative_ is funny..."

"How high _are_ you?"

"Oh, for God's sake..."

"You _want _me to get angry with you? Is that it?"

"..."

"You want me to confront you with consequences for your actions?"

"Yeah. That's _totally_ what I want. It's a massive turn on. You should ask Wilson what happens when he puts on his big boy pants and..."

"Does that make you feel good, knowing that you can walk all over me? Is that what you want in a therapist, someone you can manipulate and use? Why the hell would you want that?"

"…"

"You told me yesterday that you wished I had the power to make you stop abusing drugs."

"Yeah well, you obviously don't."

"I think I do."

"..."

"The problem is, I haven't been taking advantage of that power. I've allowed you too much freedom and inadvertently enabled you in the process."

"..."

"I've tried too hard to be your friend, when I'm not sure that's what you really need at all. You need someone to exercise authority over you, to set boundaries for you and help you to adhere to them."

"..."

"Things are going to change between you and me, Greg."

"It was only a matter of time."

"You're going to have to work very hard to regain my trust."

"Assuming I even care enough to do that."

"You don't?"

"..."

"That's fine. As of now, we're starting over from scratch."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that...I'm not discharging you until further notice. I'm revoking all of your privileges. As far as you're concerned, you're a level one. No grounds, no common area, no patio, no visitors, no phone. You can stay in your room, except for bathing, meals and sessions."

"You can't do that."

"Actually, I can."

"I signed myself in and I can sign myself out."

"True. But I can notify the medical licensing board that you're not mentally stable enough to practice. I can also report you to the DEA."

"You can't _do_ that."

"Yes, I _can_."

"..."

"This is serious, Greg. You're here because you need help. If you insist on sabotaging your own recovery, I can't help you."

"Then don't. If I'm so much trouble, just discharge me. Why do you have to destroy my career over it?"

"Is that what you want…you want me to give up, just let you run your life into the ground?"

"Why do you care _what_ I do?"

"I don't know, Greg. I only know that I do. And I'm not going to stop caring about you, just because you insist on self-destructing."

"..."

"But I'm also not going to continue to invest myself in someone who is actively working against their own recovery."

"Then don't."

"Think about it. Think about what you're actually saying. Think about what you're denying yourself."

"..."

"Think about whether or not you're planning to go the distance with me. Because if you're not, I need to know."

"..."

"All this time you've been afraid that I'd eventually get pissed off at you, that I'd eventually get fed up with your behavior. Well, guess what, Greg? I've officially reached my limit. I'm pissed off and I'm fed up."

"..."

"I'm sorry if this hurts your feelings. I don't know if this is just the drugs talking, or what. But I honestly don't think you give a damn about anyone or anything. While I'm sure you have decent reasons for being that way, that doesn't make it okay. It needs to change, before you end up killing yourself."

"..."

"So who _did_ you scam?"

"What difference does it make?"

"Was it an employee or another patient?"

"Give it up, doc."

"I need to know who it was, Greg."

"Why?"

"So I can make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Oh, you think you're so clever. You think you've got this whole place wired? There are all kinds of things going on here that you know nothing about."

"I don't doubt it. But I also don't see how that's relevant to you."

"There's a woman named Elaine in detox who has half a gram of meth in a balloon stuffed up her twat and some guy named Trent, whose girlfriend brought him cookies with hash baked into them. And that was just this morning."

"Good to know. I'll certainly look into that. But right now, we're talking about you."

"..."

"So who was it?"

"It doesn't matter who it was."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll just find someone else."

"I'm going to make sure that you don't find someone else."

"Good luck with that."

"Who was it?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I will speak individually with every single employee of this hospital, until I figure out who it was you scammed."

"..."

"Seems like it would be easier if you just told me the truth."

"It was Marty."

"Marty...Marty Jensen...the shift nurse?"

"…"

"And how did you get the drugs out of him?"

"I gave him a pack of Camel Wides."

"That's it? He risked his career for a pack of cigarettes? Somehow I doubt it."

"And fifty bucks."

"In exchange for what?"

"..."

"That's okay. I can always ask _him_."

"And you think he'll tell you?"

"..."

"Ten milligrams of Valium."

"..."

"You happy now? Feel better knowing? Because I sure do. Wow, I feel super."

"He could lose his job over this. He will be, at the very least, suspended."

"Wonderful. Another life ruined by Gregory House."

"You don't think he should be subject to disciplinary action?"

"It wasn't like...trust me. It was all my idea."

"But he was a willing participant."

"I was very convincing. He was scared shitless. I doubt he's ever done it before and he probably won't ever do it again."

"You care that he's treated fairly."

"I care that he doesn't suffer for my mistake."

"He erred also, Greg. He knows better. He has no excuse. I can't have people working here, who are going to slip drugs to my patients. He's a liability."

"..."

"And you couldn't have taken all ten milligrams, or you wouldn't be lucid right now."

"..."

"So what did you do with the rest of it?"

"..."

"Okay, if that's the way you want to play it. I'm going to have to search your room and all your things."

"Don't bother."

"You've got it on you?"

"..."

"Let's have it."

"..."

"Greg...I'd really rather not have to take it by force."

"..."

"Thank you."

"..."

"You sure this is it?"

"I just told you, he only gave me ten milligrams. I realize it's probably been a while since you're last math class. But let me refresh your memory. I took five milligrams and _there's_ five milligrams. That equals ten."

"What else have you got?"

"Why would you think..."

"Because I know you. You gave this up far too easily and you don't do anything without a backup plan."

"..."

"At the count of three I'm going to call a team of very large, very strong orderlies in here, and they _will_ search every inch of you. And it will be humiliating and uncomfortable for both of us. I'd really rather not put you through that."

"..."

"One..."

"..."

"Two..."

"God, fine. _Here_."

"Five milligrams of Haldol...and these look like Darvocet and Soma. Where the hell did you get these?"

"I already told you, Marty."

"For fifty dollars and a pack of cigarettes?"

"I may have also blackmailed him."

"With what?"

"He's having an affair with a patient's daughter."

"What patient?"

"The old guy with the goatee, who thinks he's John The Baptist."

"But what would you need the Haldol for? You're already getting Abilify."

"Are you kidding? You know what I can get for five milligrams of Haldol around here?"

"I cannot believe you did this. I really can't."

"I can."

"What are we going to do about this? How are we going to deal with this? Where do we go from here?"

"Hell if I know."

"It sounds like you don't care either."

"I already told you that I don't want to be here. Me coming back was your idea."

"I don't think you want to know how angry I am right now."

"…"

"This is rock bottom, Greg. Congratulations. Scamming a nurse to get narcotics, _while_ you're in detox is rock bottom."

"No kidding. Thanks."

"What's it going to take? Do I have to strap you to a bed, assign someone to watch you twenty-four hours a day?"

"…"

"Do you really want to get sober? Because I'm starting to wonder."

"Wanting something and being able to attain it are two different things. I've learned to embrace my limitations. Why can't you?"

"What's stopping you, Greg? What do you think is standing between you and sobriety?"

"Drugs mostly. But also...drugs."

"You think this is funny?"

"No, I just...it was a stupid question."

"But you're smiling."

"I'm...amused. I can't be amused?"

"You're amused by this?"

"Is there an echo in here?"

"I want to enroll you in our inpatient substance abuse program."

"No."

"That wasn't a question."

"It's not going to work."

"Why not?"

"I went through all of this psycho-crap already. I was here for four months. It didn't help."

"No..._last_ time you were immediately transferred to the main ward after detox. You attended _some_ of the substance abuse groups. But at the risk of being inconsiderate…you half-assed it. Dr. Bendell said you rarely spoke up. You didn't do any of your homework. When it was your turn to share, you either deflected or made some kind of joke, or turned the attention to someone else."

"And how long is this...program?"

"Nine weeks. Dr. Patel would be your attending. You would stay in ward four, attend groups specifically geared towards treating addiction, participate in one on one counseling with Dr. Patel and others who are specifically trained in that arena. You'd have homework to do. You and I would still meet once or twice a week. I can make time to see you more than that, if need be."

"..."

"This is the real deal, Greg. It's serious stuff. It's high security. There'd be no visitors, no phone calls, and limited privileges."

"Sounds like being in prison."

"It will be very difficult for you, yes. But I think it's the only way you're going to beat this."

"..."

"Tell me what you're feeling."

"No."

"You're angry with me now."

"Nope."

"It's okay if you are."

"..."

"This must be overwhelming."

"..."

"I can't imagine that you're not scared."

"..."

"I'm not abandoning you, Greg. I'm just establishing some boundaries."

"Right."

"Please tell me what you're feeling."

"Nine weeks is a long time."

"Yes, it is. But it's not forever."

"And I wouldn't be able to see Wilson?"

"Not for the first two weeks at least."

"Why?"

"Because he's an enabler. Because I think he might be part of the problem. You need to get away from him for a little while, at least until you figure all of this out."

"..."

"I know you don't want to do this. I'd rather you didn't have to stay here at all. But I simply can't release you back into the world, when I know the chances of you succeeding to stay sober are slim. I want you to succeed. I want you to be happy."

"Did it ever occur to you, that just might not be possible?"

"I'd prefer not to operate, based on that assumption."

"..."

"How do you normally deal with fear?"

"By _not_ dealing with it."

"That doesn't seem to be working so well, though."

"…"

"Do you ever pray?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"See, I have trouble with the concept of prayer."

"Why's that?"

"You talk to God…you air your grievances, make your requests, and he does whatever the hell it was he was going to do anyway. Seems like a wasted conversation. It's like filing a complaint against the DMV."

"So you _do_ believe in a God."

"I don't know."

"You either believe in God or you don't."

"I'm like anyone else. I want to make sense of things. Life would be a whole lot more easy to bear if we had someone to blame for all the shitty things that happened to us. That's all religion is, it's organized blame."

"I'm not sure I agree."

"I take it you're religious?"

"Not really. I believe in God. I sometimes pray. But I wouldn't consider myself to be particularly religious."

"You go to church?"

"My wife does. She's fairly involved, although I think it's more of a social thing for her. She plays bingo, attends study groups, sings with the choir."

"And she doesn't expect you to come along?"

"I go with her on Christmas and Easter."

"Why?"

"It makes her happy."

"But it doesn't make you happy."

"I've learned that there are some sacrifices worth making."

"…"

"I think that even if you don't believe in God, prayer and meditation can be very therapeutic."

"…"

"I also think it would help you to acknowledge the existence of some sort of higher power."

"Why?"

"It's one of the twelve steps. I've noticed that people who skip that step, tend to be less successful with their sobriety."

"How about...the Flying Spaghetti Monster?"

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you place your faith in something greater and more powerful than yourself."

"How about you?"

"I'm a human being. If you place your faith in me, I will ultimately fail you. I am not in charge of the universe, nor would I want to be."

"I don't know."

"Think about it, okay?"

"And what about this…substance abuse program?"

"Well, you'd have to go on disability again. You'd have to arrange to have a week's worth of clothing and toiletries brought to you, which I assume James would be more than happy to do. If you think you're going to have trouble getting the time off from work, let me know and I will sort it out with Dr. Cuddy."

"I'm going to end up living here for the rest of my life."

"No, you're not. This is temporary, Greg."

"Not temporary enough."

"Still, temporary."

"..."

"_Have_ you ever prayed?"

"..."

"Is that yes or a no?"

"It's a waste of time."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I've never prayed for anything that actually came true."

"It's not like wishing on a star or throwing a coin into a fountain, I don't think. And that still doesn't answer my question."

"..."

"What did you pray for?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Why not?"

"..."

"How bad could it be?"

"I used to pray when I was a kid."

"For what?"

"That my dad would stop being an asshole."

"I see. And that apparently never came true. I can see why you would lose faith in God."

"..."

"How old were you when you stopped praying?"

"I don't know, ten or eleven?"

"You told me yesterday...that wasn't the only time you'd slipped."

"…"

"I need to know in what other ways you've slipped."

"Yeah…I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"…"

"Or you don't know if you're ready to tell me."

"..."

"Because that means committing to being sober. That means giving away all of your secrets."

"It's not just that."

"You're ashamed."

"There are some things about me that I'd really prefer that nobody know."

"Even me?"

"Especially you."

"It's understandable that you'd feel that way. But if nothing else, I want to be the person you can talk to, whose reaction you don't have to fear. I want you to be able to tell me anything."

"..."

"No more secrets, Greg."

"What do you want to know?"

"Recent slips. I want to gauge the severity of your addiction."

"I think you know more than enough to gauge the severity of my addiction."

"But I don't know everything, do I?"

"Well, just in the last month...I stole of bottle of Tylenol with codeine out of a nurse's locker."

"When did you do that?"

"Last Tuesday."

"Have you ever done anything like that before?"

"Sure."

"How many times?"

"I don't know, lots."

"Too many to count?"

"Maybe."

"How many did you take?"

"The whole bottle."

"And how long did it take you to go through that?"

"Less than two days."

"That's pretty fast."

"…"

"What else have you done recently?"

"I've been taking diphenhydramine."

"Sleeping pills?"

"Yeah."

"To sleep?"

"No just…you know, because."

"I see."

"I...chew them."

"So you absorb the medication faster."

"Yeah."

"What else?"

"I drank a few bottles of cough syrup."

"How many is _a few_?"

"It was actually more than a few."

"Why cough syrup?"

"Wilson cleaned out all the alcohol a few months ago, before we moved. But after we moved, I got some more and stashed it around the loft. He found it and got rid of it again. I got more...and he found it and got rid of it _again_. About a week ago, I waited until he was in bed and asleep. I drove down to the corner and picked up three bottles of Nyquil at the pharmacy. I ran out after about twelve hours. So I picked up a case on the way home from work."

"You went through an entire case of cough syrup in less than a week?"

"..."

"Why not just buy regular alcohol?"

"Wilson decided to quit drinking...you know, as some kind of solidarity thing. So he wasn't planning on having any around the house. Cough medicine was easier to hide. And if I got caught with it, I could just claim to be sick."

"_Did_ you get caught with it?"

"I was careful, threw the bottles away in the dumpster behind our apartment. I don't think he noticed."

"You don't think James has noticed that you're drunk and high?"

"I'm not sure he can tell the difference anymore."

"I think that's very sad."

"No kidding."

"Is that everything?"

"No..."

"What else is there?"

"I'm not sure if can tell you."

"Why?"

"It's...incriminating."

"That's kind of the point."

"..."

"This is completely confidential."

"..."

"Whatever you did, it's between us. Okay? Even if it was illegal."

"I stole a few capsules of Percocet."

"Who from?"

"From one of our patients."

"How did you go about that?"

"They'd broken their wrist, as a result of osteomyelitis. We offered them the drugs for the pain, assuming they'd want them. Most patients do. But they declined."

"Why did they decline?"

"They were recovering from a drug addiction."

"What kind of drugs?"

"Amphetamines of some sort. I didn't ask."

"And you just took the pills."

"Yeah. Usually in situations like that, we return the drugs to stock. But I just...went around the corner to the stairwell and swallowed them."

"So you were at work when you did this?"

"Yep."

"Did anyone notice or inquire about what was done with the medication?"

"No."

"How often would you say you've come to work buzzed on something?"

"Well, I worked on Vicodin every day for almost ten years."

"How much would you take on a typical day?"

"Maybe...a hundred and forty milligrams."

"In a twenty-four hour period?"

"..."

"That's...seven thousand milligrams of acetaminophen a day. You're lucky your liver is still intact."

"..."

"Did you ever drink while you were practicing medicine?"

"…"

"Greg, once again…no judgment here. I just need to know."

"I…would sometimes drink while I was at work, usually after hours."

"Okay."

"I want to make it clear though, that I have never been _drunk_ at work."

"How often would you say you drove while intoxicated?"

"Well, if we're counting Vicodin...most of the time."

"What about drunk?"

"A couple times."

"How many is a couple?"

"I don't know...ten?"

"That's more than a couple."

"I'm an excellent driver."

"Did you ever get a DUI?"

"Outside of that one time, no."

"Did you ever get into any accidents?"

"I laid my bike down in a parking lot last year. But other than that, no."

"Were you drunk when you did that?"

"No, actually."

"You're very lucky."

"I guess."

"Thank you for telling me these things. I can't imagine that it was easy."

"…"

"How do you feel about this?"

"About what?"

"About these things that you just told me?"

"I don't know. I guess…I don't know."

"You had a thought. Let's hear it."

"I'm not exactly proud of it. I mean, I know it seems like...this isn't who I wanted to be. It's just...the way it turned out."

"I know that."

"People...look down on addicts."

"What people?"

"Everyone…patients, employees, my boss, other doctors...you."

"I don't look down on you, Greg."

"..."

"You think other people look down on you, because you're an addict."

"Yeah."

"How does that make you feel?"

"..."

"Just give me a word, any word."

"Small."

"That's an interesting answer."

"No, I mean…when I was a kid, my dad would talk down to me. He'd talk to me like he was a drill sergeant and I was a cadet, and I remember feeling small. No matter how old I got, being around him, I always felt small. By the time I was fourteen, I was taller than he was. And I still felt...small."

"And you feel this way when you're around other people."

"Most people, yeah."

"Do you feel small when you're with me?"

"..."

"It's okay if the answer is _yes_."

"..."

"I don't want you to feel small, Greg."

"..."

"What about James?"

"What about him?"

"Do you feel small when you're with him?"

"Sometimes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"I think you have a lot of work to do still."

"..."

"How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"The knowledge that you have a long way to go."

"It's like...this is never going to be over."

"It will be. I promise. There_ is_ a light at the end of this tunnel. I can lead you to the other side. But only if you trust me."

"..."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Tomorrow we're going to start digging into some of the meat of your issues."

"..."

"In the meantime, let's get you moved into ward four."

"..."

"You look like you have a lot on your mind."

"I guess I do."

"Care to share?"

"I just want you to know...I wasn't trying to walk all over you."

"I know it."

"I just…this is who I am. This is just how I treat people."

"What do you mean by that?"

"When I'm scared, I push people away."

"Scared of what?"

"I don't know. Maybe...of becoming attached?"

"Attached...you mean to me?"

"I don't think you realize..."

"Realize what?"

"How much nicer you are to me…than pretty much everyone else."

"What about James?"

"He's as nice to me as he can be."

"Implying that he _could_ be nicer."

"..."

"Why do you think that is?"

"You don't know about half the shit I've put him through. He reached his boiling point a long time ago. He couldn't be objective now, even if he wanted to be."

"Has it occurred to you to discuss this with him?"

"No."

"Why?"

"I just couldn't."

"..."

"Sometimes I think…I'm daring him to leave. Because at least that way I wouldn't have to live in fear of losing him."

"You think he's going to leave you again?"

"No. But he could, if he wanted to."

"So you think that since he has the option of leaving you, he'll eventually take advantage of it."

"…"

"You can't live in fear, Greg. You've got find some way to enjoy what you've got."

"Does he have to know about this?"

"About what?"

"About me, you know..."

"Scamming drugs out of a nurse?"

"Not that he could possibly think any less of me than he already does."

"He's obviously going to want to know why you're staying here for another nine weeks. I think he should at the very least, be aware of the severity of your addiction."

"Trust me. He's aware."

"Okay. I won't tell him, if you don't want me to."

"Thanks."


	30. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 20

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"How are feeling this morning, Greg?"

"Like crap."

"That's exactly how you _should_ feel."

"Well that makes it okay."

"Are you in pain?"

"I been vomiting all night. I have a fever of a hundred and two. My nose is running. My hands won't stop shaking. My head is pounding and I'm dizzy."

"That at least explains the wheelchair."

"I'm never eating anything ever again."

"Okay."

"I'm never drinking anything again."

"Seems impractical. But okay."

"I don't even want to_ smell_ anything ever again."

"I promise that in about forty-eight hours or so, you will start to feel a lot better."

"Oh boy. I can't wait."

"Have you met with Dr. Patel?"

"Twice."

"What do you think of her?"

"She's okay, I guess. I was kind of expecting someone older."

"She's not as young as she looks."

"She's rather humorless."

"She isn't going to put up with any nonsense, if that's what you mean."

"..."

"What have you discussed with her so far?"

"My flaws and assets, my fears, my resentments, and my personal favorite, my _sexual conduct_."

"The _searching and fearless moral inventory_?"

"Yeah."

"And how's that going so far?"

"You mean she hasn't told you?

"She...expressed some concern about your attitude. I...reassured her that you were one hundred percent committed to the program."

"How long do you think it will be before she figures out that you're lying?"

"..."

"I'm kidding."

"I know."

"How?"

"_How_ what?"

"How do you know when I'm kidding?"

"I just do."

"People usually don't. They either assume I'm kidding when I'm not or assume I'm serious when I'm kidding."

"I think I know you well enough by now, to tell when you're kidding."

"..."

"You know what we're going to do today."

"Yes."

"Are you ready?"

"Do I_ look_ ready?"

"All these things that are standing in the way of your happiness...I want you to believe that you can get over them. I want you to believe that you have the power to deal with these issues and move on with your life."

"Yeah? What if I can't?"

"Have I ever misled you or steered your wrong?"

"..."

"Have I ever made a promise that I didn't keep?"

"Not yet."

"Then stop assuming that you can't do it, and just place some trust in me."

"..."

"Healing starts now, okay?"

"..."

"Okay?"

"Yeah...pass me the waste basket."

"You're going to be sick?"

"Probably at some point during this session. I'd just rather spare myself the four foot hobble to your desk."

"You want an emesis basin?"

"Those are for sissies. Real men use the trash can."

"Okay."

"..."

"You're sitting on some serious emotional baggage. We're just going to lay it all out on the table today."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning...we're going to talk about what brought you here in the first place. We're going to discuss the accident, the day that it happened and everything surrounding Amber's death. We're going to talk about what happened before and afterwards and exactly how you felt about it. We're going to talk about the history of your drug and alcohol use. And were not going to leave anything out. You're not going to hold anything in. When I ask how you feel, there's not going to be any of this _I don't know_ or _I don't want to talk about this._ You're going to be honest and straightforward, and feel your feelings."

"And we're going to do _all_ that today?"

"No...we're just getting started today. We'll talk about these things again at your next session, and the one after that, and the one after that. But then you're going to mourn them and be done with them. And from that point on, you're going to focus on feeling better. Okay?"

"…"

"Sound like a plan?"

"I guess I don't really have a choice."

"You _definitely _have a choice. You don't have to do this at all."

"..."

"Seriously...I need to know that you're on board with this. Because if you're not completely committed, it's not going to work."

"Yeah. Great. Fine. Let's do it."

"Why don't you start at the beginning, by telling me about the day of the bus crash."

"I don't really remember much about the day itself."

"Well...tell me what you _do_ remember, starting when you left work."

"It was just getting dark when I climbed on my bike. The sky was all purple."

"Did you normally leave at that time?"

"No. But we didn't have a patient, so I cut out early."

"And how did you decide where to go?"

"I wanted to go somewhere where nobody knew me."

"Why?"

"I'd been drinking a lot lately."

"More than usual?"

"Maybe."

"So why go somewhere where no one knows you?"

"I just couldn't handle going to the same places over and over again. Because after a while, people would start drawing conclusions."

"Assuming that you were an alcoholic."

"..."

"That's not an uncommon practice for addicts. Alcoholics will often rotate the places which they frequent, to conceal their addiction from the general public."

"..."

"So you hadn't ever been to this particular bar before?"

"I'd driven past it lots of times. But I'd never actually gone in."

"And what time was it when you got there?"

"It was about four forty-something. The happy hour crowd was just thinning out. I ordered a whiskey sour and a beer, ate some pretzels. Then I had six shots of Scotch and another four beers."

"That's a lot of alcohol."

"…"

"Had you eaten anything besides the pretzels?"

"I'd had a late lunch."

"How often would you consume that much alcohol in one sitting?"

"About…once or twice a week maybe. Usually on Friday and Saturday nights."

"But you said before that this was a Tuesday night. Did you usually drink on weeknights?"

"Not to that extent."

"So why was this different?"

"I…wasn't having a good day."

"You were upset about something."

"Wilson was on call."

"Okay."

"He promised to spend time with me and forgot."

"James was already spending most of his free time with Amber. So the fact that he forgot about spending time with you only added insult to injury."

"..."

"So you were upset, because you were feeling ignored."

"..."

"Greg...we're not holding anything back, okay? If you were upset, I want to hear it."

"Yes, I was upset."

"Why?"

"You just said."

"And now I want to hear you say it."

"I was upset because...I was used to spending all of my free time with him. We hadn't done anything together in at least a week."

"So you missed him."

"..."

"Yes? No?"

"Yes."

"It's hard to admit that though, isn't it?"

"..."

"How long were you at the bar, before the bartender took your keys?"

"Maybe…a little over two hours."

"Why so long?"

"I was pacing myself."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean...I could have gotten drunk in twenty minutes, if I'd wanted to."

"But you didn't, why?"

"I...wanted it to last."

"Wanted _what_ to last?"

"The buzz."

"Ah okay. Makes sense."

"..."

"Were you planning on becoming too drunk to drive?"

"I didn't really think about it."

"But it was your goal to get drunk."

"I was just trying to drink enough to forget."

"So you wanted to get drunk."

"Yes, I wanted to get plowed beyond recognition. Okay?"

"Okay. You don't have to direct your anger towards me, Greg. I'm just encouraging you to be thorough and honest in your explanation."

"..."

"So were you also planning on driving home drunk?"

"No."

"How were you planning to get home, if you became too drunk to drive?"

"I figured I could always call a cab, if it came to that."

"So your initial plan was to call a cab."

"..."

"Don't worry about what you_ should_ have done. It's irrelevant. You can't go back and change it. So let's just talk about what you _did _do and why. Okay?"

"I was drinking enough that I wasn't thinking straight. I'd called Wilson so many times before…I think it was just habit."

"You think that if you'd been thinking more clearly, you'd have made a different decision?"

"Probably."

"So you called him at home?"

"I called his office. But he didn't pick up. I called his cell. But since he was inside the hospital, it wasn't turned on. I didn't want to leave a message. So I called him at home."

"Why didn't you want to leave a message?"

"It probably would have been hours before he checked his voicemail."

"Why didn't you page him?"

"Same reason."

"Why would you call him at home, if you knew he wouldn't be there?"

"I don't know."

"We're not saying _I don't know_ today."

"..."

"Think about it."

"I called because...I knew _she'd_ be there."

"So you wanted to talk to her."

"Not especially."

"Maybe you wanted an excuse to screw with her."

"I...thought maybe if _she_ paged him at work, he'd call her back."

"So your theory was that he'd answer _her_ pages, but not yours and your plan was to use her to get a hold of him."

"…"

"Did it work?"

"No."

"So what happened when you called her?"

"She kept asking where I was, kept asking for the address of the bar. I honestly thought she was going to call Wilson and tell him to come get me."

"But she didn't."

"She said she would."

"So she lied. How did that make you feel?"

"..."

"You called your best friend for a ride home, and he wasn't available. So you called his girlfriend instead. She agreed to contact her boyfriend and tell him to go pick you up and she came in his place, when she knew that was probably the last thing you wanted. How did that make you feel?"

"Betrayed, I guess."

"You guess? You either felt something or you didn't."

"Yes, I felt betrayed."

"Perhaps you're also ashamed that you were so easily fooled, because you know that you wouldn't been, had you been sober."

"I genuinely didn't think she'd actually show up there, sober or not."

"Why?"

"I just didn't."

"Did her showing up there seem out of character?"

"Yeah."

"So it was genuinely a surprise."

"About a week earlier, she'd said...she said that being with Wilson had changed her."

"And you didn't want to believe that."

"People don't change, not really, not that quickly, not to that extent."

"I think you know that's not true."

"..."

"How long did it take her to get to the bar?"

"Twenty minutes maybe."

"So...about what time was it when she arrived?"

"About a quarter after seven."

"How did you feel when she walked into the bar?"

"I don't know."

"Once again, we're not saying _I don't know_ today."

"I didn't want to see her."

"That doesn't tell me how you felt."

"I guess I was…angry."

"You guess? I want you to own your feelings today. Were you angry or not?"

"Yes."

"Then say it."

"I was angry."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"Because…I didn't feel like dealing with her, especially not drunk."

"Why?"

"She was part of the reason I was drinking in the first place. And...she seemed to actually give a damn whether or not I got home okay."

"And that bothered you, because you perceived her to be your enemy. You didn't want any reason to like her."

"I had none up until then."

"And because you were angry with her, you didn't want to acknowledge the possibility that she might have positive qualities or good intentions."

"..."

"That's a perfectly understandable feeling, Greg."

"..."

"So what happened when she approached you, at the bar?"

"I asked her to have a drink with me."

"I remember you telling me before…you weren't romantically interested in her. Why did you ask her to have a drink?"

"I thought maybe if I was obnoxious enough, she'd either get fed up and leave or end up getting drunk herself."

"Why would you want _her_ to get drunk?"

"Misery loves company."

"You perceived yourself to be morally inferior, and you were hoping to drag her down as well, level the playing field."

"..."

"Did you give any thought to how James would feel, if Amber came home drunk?"

"Sure."

"You knew it would upset him, perhaps create dissention between them."

"..."

"Was that your goal?"

"..."

"It's okay if it was."

"Yeah. Yeah, it was."

"How do you feel about that?"

"How do you think I feel?"

"Stop deflecting and answer the question."

"Like an asshole."

"Okay, good. So she drank the drink?"

"She just had the one…a Cosmopolitan."

"Then what?"

"Then she demanded that I leave the bar with her."

"Demanded how?"

"She just...reminded me that I'd called her, that I needed a ride home, said it shouldn't matter who it came from."

"That doesn't sound like a demand."

"It was her tone of voice."

"Okay. And you refused to go with her?"

"I told her I'd catch the bus. I got up and tried to walk out."

"Tried?"

"I could barely walk."

"Because you were drunk?"

"That and...I'd left my cane behind."

"So what happened when you got up and walked out?"

"She tried to help me…put my arm around her shoulders for support."

"Was she as tall as you?"

"She was only a few inches shorter than me. I still practically crushed her on the way out the door."

"But you said before that she went back inside."

"When we were almost outside, the bartender called after us. She ran back inside to pay the bill."

"What were you thinking when she did that?"

"I was relieved to be rid of her."

"I meant about sticking her with your bill."

"Again, like an asshole."

"So you _did_ feel bad. But you didn't care, because your goal was to create a distraction and it worked."

"Exactly."

"And then you went outside and got on the bus."

"Yes."

"When did you notice that she'd gotten on also?"

"I'd already sat down, and the bus had already started pulling into traffic when she approached me."

"What did she say?"

"I don't remember. She just…handed me my cane."

"How did you feel, that she'd followed you?"

"Irritated."

"Why?"

"Because...I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of being the one to make sure I got home okay."

"_Very_ good."

"Good?"

"That you can both articulate that and are willing to admit it are good. Why do you think you felt that way?"

"..."

"Just say whatever you're thinking right now."

"I...hated her."

"Past tense?"

"No."

"So you still hate her?"

"..."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"You don't _hate_ people for no reason."

"..."

"Maybe you hated her because you felt like you'd been replaced."

"..."

"You need to say it, Greg. You need to get it out, so you can move on."

"I...hate her."

"Present tense?"

"Yes."

"Because?"

"Because I felt like I'd been replaced."

"Past tense?"

"No..."

"You _still_ feel like you've been replaced?"

"It's like she's dead, but she'll never be gone."

"Good."

"..."

"Did she say anything to you at all?"

"When?"

"When she approached you on the bus."

"I asked her if she was doing it for Wilson or for me."

"Doing what?"

"Making sure I got home."

"Ah, yes. I remember you mentioning that. And she said she was doing it for James."

"Yeah."

"How did that make you feel?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think it really mattered what she said. I think I would have been ticked off either way."

"It's good that you can recognize that though."

"..."

"How long were you on the bus, before it was hit by the garbage truck?"

"Not long…maybe like seven or eight blocks. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes."

"And what was that like?"

"It was...you know, a bus crash."

"I've never been in a bus crash. I have no frame of reference whatsoever. Describe it for me."

"..."

"It's okay to talk about it, Greg. It's okay to acknowledge that you were afraid, that it was traumatic."

"..."

"You haven't talked about the accident at all, and you've admitted to having nightmares about it. I really think it would help you to discuss it."

"It was like...being inside this big toy, that was being violently shaken. Everyone was just, screaming and flying around. The sound was deafening. And it felt like...it would never stop."

"Were you scared?"

"..."

"If you were scared, just say _yes, I was scared_."

"Yes, I was scared."

"Feels good to be able to say that, doesn't it?"

"Not especially."

"What were you thinking when all this was happening?"

"I wasn't."

"You were just kind of there, going through the motions."

"I saw people's bodies..._Amber's_ body, sailing through the air."

"That must have been very stressful."

"I tried to grab her hand. She was reaching out for me, looking at me like...like she wanted me to save her."

"Did you reach out for her as well?"

"I tried so hard to...I just couldn't."

"You couldn't save her, Greg. It's not your fault that you couldn't grab her hand."

"It was just centimeters, you know? Another one or two and I would have had her."

"And that's okay."

"It's _not _okay. She wouldn't have been there if it weren't for me. I should have done something."

"But it's not your fault that the bus was hit by a garbage truck."

"..."

"Don't focus on the fact that you failed to reach her. Focus on the fact that you wanted to. That was heroic and selfless, that you'd be thinking of her at that moment, instead of worrying about your own safety."

"..."

"You laugh, but it's true."

"I'm not a hero. I'm the opposite of a hero."

"I don't think so."

"Well, you're wrong."

"Just tell me what happened next."

"We collided with something and everything just...stopped. I hit my head...slammed into something. It was like...I could hear the crack. Then everything was black. I actually saw stars. It was surreal."

"Did it hurt?"

"No, actually. I mean, it probably did. But I didn't process it at the time. It was more like an...electric shock. I've been electrocuted before, as you know. It was exactly like that."

"So you lost consciousness."

"Yeah."

"How long were you unconscious?"

"It couldn't have been long. When I came to, the bus was empty. I was the last person on it. All the other passengers had already been removed."

"And you just got up and walked out?"

"It was like being in a trance. I couldn't feel anything. There was no pain. There was nothing. I crawled out of the bus and stood there in the street and was completely...numb."

"But you remember it now?"

"I've gotten bits and pieces back, over the last year or two, mostly in dreams."

"What did you do next?"

"I walked into a strip club. I was there for about an hour, I think. One of the dancers noticed that my head was bleeding. At first I thought I'd been mugged. But I apparently still had my wallet on me, since I'd already ordered a drink."

"You didn't remember ordering the drink?"

"I didn't even remember walking in there."

"How did you finally figure out what had happened?"

"I went back outside and saw the wreckage."

"What time was it then?"

"Just before nine o'clock."

"Did you remember the accident at that point?"

"No."

"No?"

"I mean, I knew that something must have happened, and I was clearly involved. But it was like...I was in a fog, dreaming."

"So how did you get back to the hospital?"

"I had my cell phone on me. But it was dead. I found a pay phone and called Wilson."

"And he answered?"

"I left a message, tried again and left another message. Third time I called him, he picked up."

"And he came to get you?"

"He was annoyed at first, until I told him I'd been in an accident."

"_Then_ he came to get you."

"Yes."

"How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"That you had to convince him to come get you?"

"..."

"Greg, you're doing so well with this. Just tell me what you're feeling."

"I was thinking, if it was Amber who had called him, he'd have dropped everything to go get her."

"But he's dropped everything to come get you before. You've told me as much."

"..."

"Doesn't change how it made you feel, though."

"..."

"What happened next?"

"Wilson picked me up."

"How long did it take him to get there?"

"I don't know...twenty minutes."

"And he took you back to the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"What happened when you got back to the hospital?"

"I got sutures, where I'd hit my head."

"How many?"

"I don't remember. I don't think I counted. No more than ten, though."

"Did you have a concussion?"

"Probably."

"You're not sure?"

"I was convinced that I'd seen something...that someone was going to die, someone who'd been on the bus. So that kind of took priority over my own injuries."

"But you must have been in pain."

"My head was throbbing and I was a little nauseated."

"So you probably did have a concussion."

"Yes."

"And yet you ignored that in favor of this mystery."

"I know it sounds...crazy."

"No, it doesn't. You experienced something traumatic and your mind was struggling to make sense of it. Given your personality, it fits."

"Chase hypnotized me."

"You mentioned that before. Was that helpful?"

"Not really. I remembered that I'd been drinking at a bar. But I didn't remember which bar until later. At first I thought the patient who was sick was this emo, Guitar Hero wannabe."

"What did you think was wrong with him?"

"He'd been picking his nose on the bus. I thought maybe...nasal pruritis could mean a brain tumor."

"That's a long shot."

"Yeah, well I found him in the ER and he checked out okay. Then I thought maybe it was the driver."

"Why the driver?"

"He was the only passenger to display any unusual symptoms."

"What unusual symptoms did he display?"

"About an hour after being admitted, he lost all feeling below the waist."

"Did he have spinal damage?"

"No, that was the strange thing. There was no logical explanation for the paralysis, at least not one connected to the accident."

"So you fixated on this mystery."

"Yes."

"What happened next?"

"I thought I might be able to remember more about the accident if I...smelled some of the passenger's clothing."

"That's...a unique idea. Did it work?"

"It did at first. Until I started hallucinating. Wilson insisted I get an MRI."

"Because you were hallucinating?"

"Yes."

"And what did you find?"

"I'd fractured my temporal bone and there was some localized edema."

"You should have been resting after an injury of that magnitude."

"Yeah...well, I was still convinced that someone was going to die."

"So you continued to fixate on this patient, the bus driver."

"I was hoping to evoke some more memories. So I popped a couple physostigmine and climbed into a sensory deprivation tank."

"At the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Was that successful?"

"I remembered some things. I thought at first the patient had Parkinson's. But couldn't test that theory, because I ended up vomiting and passing out. I woke up at home. Cuddy had apparently shuttled me there, via ambulance. She left a nurse to baby-sit me."

"That was nice of her."

"I was back at the hospital within hours."

"Why?"

"Because my team still couldn't figure out what was wrong with the patient, and Cuddy was afraid they were going to kill him."

"I take it that it wasn't Parkinson's."

"No, it wasn't."

"What _was_ wrong with the patient?"

"He'd apparently had dental surgery the day prior to the crash. It had forced and air bubble into his gums, which traveled to his heart."

"That's highly unusual. And that led to paralysis? How did you come to that conclusion?"

"I remembered seeing him exhibit a myoclonic jerk, while he was driving the bus. I noticed that his teeth were especially shiny. I inferred that he'd recently had dental work done."

"So he regained sensation below his waist."

"Yeah. Once we sucked out the air bubble, he was fine."

"That's rather impressive."

"I guess."

"Meanwhile, Amber had been taken to another hospital."

"I didn't figure that out until the next morning."

"How _did_ you figure it out?"

"I hadn't slept. Wilson hadn't slept. My team hadn't slept. I was exhausted. But I was convinced that someone was still dying, that I'd saved the wrong patient. I didn't want to go home again until I was sure who it was. So...early that morning I dragged thirty hospital employees down town to reenact the accident on a vacant bus."

"How did you manage that?"

"Waved a few hundred dollar bills in the bus driver's face."

"And what about the employees?"

"What about them?"

"What was in it for them?"

"I assume Cuddy compensated them in some fashion."

"And this is when you overdosed on the physostigmine."

"Yes."

"How much did you take?"

"Five milligrams."

"All at once?"

"Yes."

"That's a lot. You could have had a severe cholinergic reaction."

"I went into cardiac arrest within two minutes."

"How did you realize that it was Amber who had been on the bus?"

"I was hallucinating when I lost consciousness."

"You mean when you were dead."

"My heart only stopped for about forty seconds."

"It still stopped. You were dead."

"Cuddy and Wilson did CPR."

"Because you were dead."

"Yes, I was _dead_. Okay?"

"And you somehow accessed your memories via that...experience."

"Yes."

"That's rather remarkable."

"I guess."

"Your will to remember must have been very strong."

"..."

"How did James react, when you remembered that it was Amber who had been on the bus?"

"He...didn't believe it at first. He actually accused me of jerking him around. He tried calling her four times and when she didn't pick up, he finally agreed to accompany me to Princeton General."

"And she was there."

"Yes."

"What condition was she in?"

"She was still unconscious. She'd had surgery to repair her femoral artery and lost both of her kidneys. They'd begun dialysis. But her heart rhythm was all over the map. I suggested that we transfer her to the teaching hospital."

"Why?"

"I guess...I panicked."

"In what sense?"

"I thought...I didn't want to leave her life in someone else's hands. Wilson was paranoid, kept asking why the hell Amber had been on the bus with me in the first place. He thought maybe I had a thing for her. And at that point, I still couldn't remember."

"Were you afraid that maybe you'd done something with her, something that you couldn't remember?"

"No."

"You didn't even consider it as a possibility?"

"I wouldn't do that to Wilson."

"Would _she?"_

"I don't know."

"But you knew if something happened to her, James would blame you. So you wanted to have as much control over the situation as possible."

"Yeah...pretty much."

"Then what?"

"Then she went into v-fib in transit. I was going to shock her. But Wilson suggested we induce hypothermia, to buy us more time to diagnose her cardiac issues. He was concerned about the possibility of the defibrillator voltage producing free radicals that would cause brain damage."

"And you agreed to this."

"In hindsight, I shouldn't have. But...yeah."

"So you brought her back to the teaching hospital and cooled her down."

"And put her on bypass."

"..."

"..."

"You going to be sick?"

"No."

"You want to take a break, get a drink of water?"

"No, I'm okay."

"So what happened next?"

"My team started a differential. Someone went to search her home for anything that could cause tachycardia. They found antidepressants and diet pills. We started testing her for anything we could think of. But everything came back negative. Even the toxscreen was negative."

"Then what?"

"Kutner was the one to initially suggest the deep brain stimulation, for memory retrieval. I...declined because it seemed too risky. I'd gone into cardiac arrest just five hours earlier."

"And James was present to hear this suggestion?"

"Yeah. He agreed at the time, that it was a bad idea. But shortly after that, Amber's liver began to fail."

"And she was already having heart and kidney issues."

"We knew it had to be something systemic. But Wilson suggested that we...cool Amber even further by filling her lungs with slurry."

"In what way would that have been helpful?"

"It bought us more time to figure out what was wrong with her. But again...I should have said no. There was no real medical reason for it. He was just trying to postpone the inevitable. And her being cooled down and on bypass drastically limited the diagnostic tests we could perform."

"Did you express that opinion to him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"He was...upset."

"You have a hard time dealing with emotions, even when they're not yours."

"I'd never seen him like that before."

"Ever?"

"I'd seen him upset. When he broke up with his wives, or when he'd lost a patient. But _not_ like this."

"Then what happened?"

"I fell asleep in my office, and dreamt that Amber was pouring me a glass of sherry. She whispered the word _electricity_ in my ear. I thought...maybe she was trying to tell me to do the DBS. I didn't really want to do it. But it seemed like the only way I was going to remember anything else. I figured that enough time had passed, that it probably wouldn't kill me. So I went to ask for Cuddy's approval."

"What did she say?"

"That I was insane."

"And was James present to hear this?"

"He agreed again that it was a bad idea."

"Interesting."

"I thought the dream might still be significant somehow. But Wilson said Amber didn't even drink sherry. Kutner pointed out that there was a _Sharrie's_ bar on the bus route. I couldn't remember going there. But I realized that was where I must have gone the night before."

"Was it where you'd gone the night before?"

"Yeah. Wilson drove me there to get my keys back from the bartender."

"Did going back to the bar help you to recover any more of your memories?"

"Not really. I asked the bartender a series of basic questions. But none of his answers were helpful. I asked him if Amber had seemed sick. He said she'd sneezed and that he'd given her a napkin to blow her nose."

"So you drove your bike back to the hospital?"

"Yeah."

"Weren't you concerned that you might crash? You were concussed and sleep deprived."

"I didn't really think about it."

"Did James express any concern about you driving your bike at this point?"

"I think he normally would have. He was...preoccupied."

"What happened when you got back to the hospital?"

"Amber's liver biopsy showed infiltrates, minor inflammation. So we thought Hep B, and started her on interferon. But back in my office, I fell asleep again. And I dreamt that I'd seen a rash on her back. Sure enough, I went to the ICU and discovered that she had a rash on her lower back. It looked like an influenza rash, which would have explained the sneezing and runny nose that the bartender saw. But we ruled that out initially, because the flu wouldn't explain her cardiac issues. One of my team stuck a needle in the rash to check for pus, but there was none. So we decided the likeliest candidate was Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. We started her on doxycycline."

"Did she respond to the antibiotics?"

"There was no way to know whether or not they were working, without warming her back up again. Wilson was against this idea, of course. But Foreman went to Cuddy, behind our backs, and Cuddy and Foreman started warming Amber up. Once she was warm again, we noticed that her EEG had slowed, meaning whatever it was had spread to her brain. We eventually decided it had to be autoimmune. I ordered steroids. Wilson said no, because if she had an infection, steroids would trash her immune system. Cuddy overrode him, told him I was the attending and that it was up to me."

"What were you feeling at this time?"

"I guess I was afraid. Because I still wasn't one hundred percent sure about what was wrong with her."

"You guess?"

"I was afraid."

"Good. And that's when James asked you to do the DBS?"

"Yeah."

"What did he say exactly?"

"He was scared that we weren't doing enough, that there was something else we could be doing...I told him that everything was going to be fine."

"You actually said that?"

"Yeah."

"Did you believe it?"

"No."

"How often would you say you've lied, just to make someone else feel better?"

"..."

"That often, huh?"

"..."

"Do you think he knew you were lying?"

"I'm sure he did."

"And how did he go about breaching the subject of the DBS?"

"He…reminded me about what Kutner had suggested, about applying electrical impulses to my hypothalamus. He said that if there was some detail left in my brain that might help us diagnose her, it was worthwhile to try and uncover it."

"That's exactly how he phrased it?"

"Yes."

"How did you feel about that?"

"You know...he was upset. He was...practically crying."

"Have you ever seen James cry before?"

"Sure...you know movies and stuff."

"Do you think he was trying to emotionally manipulate you?"

"I don't know. Maybe...I don't know."

"How did you feel at the time, about what he'd asked?"

"..."

"What were you feeling when he said that?"

"I was surprised."

"Surprised how?"

"..."

"Maybe you didn't think he would ever expect you to make such a sacrifice?"

"I kept waiting for him to say _just kidding_, or to realize how dangerous it was and change his mind. I mean...it was borderline unethical, medically speaking. Not that I've ever allowed that to stop me before."

"I don't think it was borderline, Greg. It was completely unethical."

"..."

"And what did you say at this point?"

"I wasn't sure if he realized what he was asking of me. So I said…_you think I should risk my life for Amber's?"_

"And how did he respond?"

"He said _yes_."

"He actually said the word _yes_?"

"He nodded."

"How quickly did he respond to the question?"

"Immediately."

"I see."

"..."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"That he thought you should risk your life to save Amber's."

"I don't know."

"You _do_ know. We've talked about this over and over and every time I ask you how it made you feel, you tell me you don't know."

"..."

"I think this is the root of a lot of your present issues."

"..."

"You think you can avoid feeling this pain. But it's still hurting you. You need to deal with it."

"..."

"Don't try to stop yourself from crying, Greg. It's cleansing."

"..."

"I know it's your instinct to hold it all in. But you're safe in this room."

"Can't....sorry."

"Okay. That's okay. Let's just keep talking."

"Can't."

"Yes, you can."

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"..."

"I need to know if you're okay."

"..."

"You don't have to stop talking, just because you're crying. You know that I don't care how you sound."

"…"

"Just keep talking, Greg. Talk through it."

"Can't."

"Please try."

"..."

"Just let it go."

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't apologize. You're upset. You're entitled to cry. Your feelings are important enough that they deserve to be felt."

"…"

"Take your hands away from your face."

"..."

"You don't have to cover your face."

"..."

"Tell me what you're feeling."

"I'm sorry."

"For crying? Everybody cries."

"No."

"Talk to me."

"..."

"Greg?"

"I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"I shouldn't have called her."

"You mean Amber?"

"I shouldn't have expected Wilson to drop what he was doing and come get me. I should have just taken a cab. I should have been out drinking in the first place."

"What happened to Amber was not your fault."

"Stop saying that. It's not helping me. It _is_ my fault. It's my fault. It's _my_ fault she's dead."

"But you didn't _want_ her dead."

"..."

"You did something completely random and the effects were just as random."

"There's no such thing. _Nothing_ is random."

"You've got to let go of your need to believe that. Some things just...happen. Some things are simply out of our control."

"You want to know why I drink? You want to know why I pop pills? It helps me forget. I feel like…everything's okay. And when I sober up again, it's not."

"..."

"And you think you're helping me by taking that away? Trust me, you're not. You're just making it worse."

"But you were an addict before Amber's death, Greg."

"..."

"Okay...it's okay."

"..."

"I really and truly wish I could numb this pain. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make this better for you. But I can't. You're going to have to find a way to get past this and move on. You're going to have to do the work."

"She was only twenty-seven."

"Yes, and that's very sad."

"I don't know how he can even look at me."

"Who...you mean James?"

"It must..._disgust_ him."

"He can look at you, because he loves you."

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he really does."

"..."

"You have to get over this belief that no one loves you, that no one _can_ love you. Because there in fact people that do love you and have loved you. And for some reason, you either can't feel it, or you won't allow yourself to recognize it."

"How could he say those things? When he came back to work he...I mean, I know I'm no expert. But that isn't…someone who loves you doesn't say those things."

"You're hoping to explain it. You can't. Just like your father, there is no reason. You suffered and there is no reason. Somebody hurt you and there was no reason. There's nothing you did to deserve it. It's just the way it turned out."

"But I _did_ do something. I _killed_ a woman."

"You didn't_ kill_ her."

"Yes, I did. I hated her. I _wanted_ her gone."

"But those things are not related to her death, Greg. You hated her and she's dead. Those are two separate statements. You did not _will _her to die."

"..."

"When James came back to work he was grieving and scared. He wanted to hate you. Because if he hated you, then losing you wouldn't have to hurt."

"He wasn't _going_ to lose me."

"But he could have."

"I was fine. I was alive. If he was so afraid of losing me, why the hell didn't he call?"

"Did you attempt to call him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"..."

"You assumed he wouldn't want to talk to you."

"He didn't even ask anyone how I was doing. I was sick for weeks, vomiting, migraines, night terrors, insomnia. He never called."

"I think the realization that you might have died, that your blood would have been on his hands, was more than he could take. Just being around you was a reminder of the sacrifice that he'd asked you to make."

"..."

"Look, this is terrible, what happened. It's so terrible, and unfair to everyone and very painful. But it's time to move on."

"You don't understand. I…_can't_."

"Can't what?"

"…"

"What can't you do? You can't move on?"

"I can't…forgive myself."

"Why not?"

"I keep thinking…time will pass, things will change and I'll feel better. But…I've come to the conclusion that I'm just…simply never going to forgive myself."

"From what I understand, James has forgiven you."

"…"

"You think he's lying?"

"I think…he has no idea what that means."

"You don't think he's forgiven you."

"I don't think he _should_ forgive me."

"Why?"

"..."

"You've got to have a reason."

"When I look in the mirror..."

"..."

"..."

"What do you see?"

"I see...evil."

"..."

"I see someone who doesn't deserve to live."

"..."

"There, I said it. Are you happy?"

"That's not what I see when I look at you, Greg. You are not evil, and you most definitely deserve to live."

"You don't know."

"Then tell me. Tell me what you've done that's so terrible. I want to know. Because I'm sorry. I just don't see it."

"..."

"James has acknowledged that it was an accident and forgiven you. Why can't you allow yourself to enjoy that?"

"Because it's bullshit."

"What is?"

"Everything."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Wilson and I have been living together for two and a half months."

"I know."

"But...we don't share a bedroom."

"Oh?"

"We only have sex once or twice a week…_if _you want to call it that. I hesitate to call it _sex_."

"What _would_ you call it?"

"..."

"You can be explicit, Greg. You're not going to offend me."

"We just...kind of make out and fondle each other."

"And you've never done anything more than that?"

"We did the whole_ oral_ thing a couple times. He still hasn't told anyone else about us, and I doubt he's planning to. He always wants to do it with the lights off. And he never talks during. And half the time, he wants to sleep alone in his own bed afterwards."

"Why?"

"..."

"Why do you think he wants to sleep alone?"

"So he can lay there and talk to his dead girlfriend."

"Ah."

"Yeah."

"You're sure that's what he's doing?"

"I can hear him through the heating vent."

"What does he talk to her about?"

"Sometimes it's nothing at all, just trivial stuff. Sometimes it's the weather or about his patients. Sometimes it's about me."

"How long has it been since Amber died?"

"Almost two years."

"Yeah…that's not healthy."

"_Thank_ you."

"You thought maybe it was?"

"I don't know what's normal. I don't know what normal people do."

"I think you need to give yourself a little more credit than that."

"I can't even figure out why we moved in together."

"Has it occurred to you to ask?"

"I _have_ asked. Whenever I do, he accuses me of being argumentative. He asks me why I can't just enjoy something, without having to analyze it to death."

"Does he realize that you can hear him, doing this?"

"I haven't…no. _God_, no. I mentioned it before, about a month ago. He claimed to have stopped. But I know he hasn't."

"But you haven't brought it up since."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to embarrass him."

"Hmm…I think he could stand to be embarrassed once in a while."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that a lot of attention has been placed on you and your unhealthy habits and behaviors. Meanwhile, his are being ignored."

"…"

"And what about the sex?"

"What about it?"

"Have you made any attempt to move things further along?"

"I've suggested that we…do other things."

"And how does he react to that?"

"He says there's no hurry, and that we have plenty of time."

"Well, that's true."

"But this coming from someone who usually bangs women on the first date and marries them by the third."

"Maybe that's why he's taking it slow. Maybe this is too important to rush."

"That's not why."

"Why do you think?"

"Because this way we're just two friends…screwing around. If we _do the do_, then he's really gay."

"You think he's having trouble accepting his sexuality?"

"I think he has no idea what he wants."

"But you don't think he wants you."

"I think that even if he did, his desire to do what's socially acceptable would stand in his way."

"I see."

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"..."

"How do you feel?"

"..."

"You feel better?"

"Yes, actually...a little."

"How's your head?"

"Still hurts...not as bad."

"Good...Very good. I think this is a good stopping point for today."

"..."

"I'm very proud of you, Greg. You did very well."

"…"

"That bothers you, me saying that."

"Nope."

"You look bothered."

"Because I haven't_ done_ anything."

"You don't think you've done anything? You've worked very hard here this morning, especially considering the fact that you're feeling physically ill."

"…"

"I want you to get used to being praised. Because you need to hear it. I want you to be able to look in the mirror and like who you see. I know that sounds…trite. But it matters. It matters that you like who you are."

"It's lame."

"No, it's not."

"..."

"And you didn't throw up."

"Always a plus."

"We'll pick this up on Wednesday."

"..."

"Okay?"

"Okay."


	31. Slumber Party

_Bonus thing I wrote because I was bored. House is having trouble adjusting to his changes in medication._

* * *

**Slumber Party**

"Fancy seeing you here at this hour, Dr. Nolan."

"What's going on, Greg?"

"Say, you look terrible."

"I can't imagine why."

"I can't sleep."

"You had the nurses page me in the middle of the night, because you couldn't sleep?"

"You said you'd come whenever you were needed."

"And you need me right now, for _this_."

"Gee, I sure hope I wasn't interrupting anything important."

"Are you punishing me for keeping you here?"

"If I say _yes_, will I be in trouble?"

"No..."

"Good."

"But I'm not exactly thrilled to have been woken up in the middle of the night and called down her for a _non_-emergency."

"It certainly feels like an emergency to me."

"Of course. It was insensitive of me to imply otherwise."

"Thank you."

"Well since I _am_ here, what can I do for you?"

"Are you serious?"

"Would you rather I just left instead?"

"No..."

"I assume you called me here for a reason. So what's wrong?"

"I already told you. I can't sleep."

"That's it?"

"That's not enough? It's very distressing."

"Insomnia is not an uncommon side effect of tapering off the anti-anxiety meds, which I _know_ that you already know. Meaning that you called me here for a different reason."

"I didn't see why I should have to suffer alone."

"I see. You can't sleep, therefore I shouldn't be able to either."

"You could just give me point five milligrams of Ativan. Then we could both be happy. Or you could give me more and I'd be _really_ happy."

"You wouldn't be _happy_. You'd be stoned."

"I'm with you so far."

"I'm concerned about your definition of happiness, Greg."

"Oh, come on..."

"According to your chart, you already had point five milligrams at six o'clock. That was only seven hours ago. You'll get another point five, first thing in the morning. That's a reasonable dosage."

"I'm restless, I'm anxious, and I can't stop shaking. If you give me the drugs now, we could both sleep. Sounds like a win-win to me."

"No."

"_No?"_

"What you're experiencing is completely normal and it_ will_ pass."

"If any other patient were having a panic attack, you'd give them the meds."

"First of all, you're not _having_ a panic attack. Second of all, you're not just _any_ other patient. And no I wouldn't, if they had a history of abusing said medication, which you do."

"You said that withholding an anxiolytic from a patient just to teach them a lesson was an abuse of authority."

"I'm not trying to teach you a lesson."

"Actually you are."

"Yes...that you don't need drugs to function."

"How's that working for you so far?"

"Did you seriously think that argument was going to work?"

"You realize that makes you a big, fat hypocrite, right?"

"This is beneath me."

"..."

"Lay down, close your eyes and go to sleep."

"I can't."

"Try."

"I have tried."

"Try harder."

"I _can't sleep_."

"Your body will eventually remember how to fall asleep on its own."

"What if it doesn't?"

"It will."

"But what if it doesn't?"

"_It will_."

"…"

"I'm going back home. We can discuss this in the morning."

"No, wait…"

"What?"

"…"

"Is there something else wrong?"

"…"

"Wouldn't it be easier to just tell me what's bothering you, instead of making me guess?"

"..."

"Normally I'd be able to interpret your cryptic stares. But I'm afraid I'm a bit off my game at the moment. So you'll have to give me a hand."

"I'm having…strange thoughts."

"What kind of strange thoughts?"

"…"

"Are you hallucinating?"

"No..."

"Are you suicidal?"

"…"

"Seriously, I need to know."

"I know it's wrong."

"You know _what's _wrong?"

"I'm just…these thoughts are wrong. But it's like...they still make sense."

"So you're delusional."

"Yes."

"I think the fact that you _know_ you're delusional sort of cancels it out as a delusion."

"That seems like an unfair loophole to me."

"Are you thinking about killing yourself or not? I need to know."

"If I say _yes_, will you stay?"

"Yes."

"Then, yes."

"Okay then. I'll stay."

"You gonna give me Ativan?"

"No."

"Then you can leave."

"Are you suicidal or not?"

"..."

"Greg, you can get through this without the drugs."

"What if I can't?"

"You can."

"But what if I can't?"

"_You can_."

"..."

"What you're feeling right now isn't real. It's temporary and it will pass. You will feel better soon."

"What if I don't?"

"You will."

"But what if I don't?"

"_You will_."

"..."

"Wow. This is my first real glimpse at _Greg's inner child_. I must say, it's a pleasure."

"Are you mocking me?"

"No...I'm being completely serious."

"Because I'm not being half as immature as I could be."

"I'll take your word for it."

"..."

"..."

"Wait...where are you going?"

"To get a chair, a blanket and a pillow."

"For what?"

"I'm not going to _stand_ here all night."

"You mean, you're actually going to stay?"

"Yes."

"_All_ night?"

"You didn't think I would?"

"I didn't even think you'd answer the page."

"Well, here I am."

"You want to make shadow puppets?"

"Greg..."

"You want to tell scary stories?"

"Lay back down and close your eyes."

"I can't sleep."

"You could start by laying down and closing your eyes."

"I can't."

"Try."

"I can't."

"_Try_."

"..."

"What you need is some kind of physical comfort."

"Yeah, that usually runs me about three hundred dollars an hour."

"That's not comfort. It's empty sex."

"Tomato...tomahto."

"I've got a teddy bear in my office. Want me to go get it?"

"I'm just going to pretend you didn't say that."

"Have it your way."

"Why on Earth do you have a teddy bear in your office?"

"It was a gift from a patient."

"What patient?"

"A young man named Sam."

"I don't remember anyone named Sam."

"He came just after you left."

"So...what's his deal?"

"It would be unethical for me to share that information, without his consent."

"C'mon. Who the hell am I going to tell? If you get caught you say you were asking me for a consult."

"..."

"Or we could just make shadow puppets. I do a mean Mr. Magoo."

"When he was eight, he was in a car accident. His father had been driving, his mother was in the front seat and his siblings were with him in the back seat. He was the only one to survive the wreck. He's been in and out of foster care and battling depression ever since. Three months ago, he tried to hang himself in his friend's basement."

"I'm guessing he didn't succeed."

"Fortunately, no. The rafter that he tied the noose to had been eaten through by termites. It wasn't strong enough to hold him."

"That sounds...way funnier than it probably should."

"You think attempting suicide is funny?"

"I think_ that_ person's attempt at suicide was funny. It's the proverbial equivalent to stepping on a rake."

"If you say so."

"So I take it he's _all better_ now?"

"No, he's going to live in a group home in Germantown. He'll still be coming here for outpatient therapy. But he was discharged this morning. He gave me the teddy bear as a parting gift."

"Nice."

"Not a fan of stuffed animals, I take it."

"Not really, no. But hey, whatever floats your boat."

"Were you_ ever_ a fan of stuffed animals?"

"..."

"Did you have any as a child?"

"I don't remember."

"You don't remember at all?"

"..."

"My mother collected teddy bears, specifically Paddington and Winnie The Pooh. So my sisters and I had a lot of stuffed animals."

"How nice for you."

"You seriously can't remember whether or not you had any stuffed animals?"

"I...had a sock monkey."

"A _sock monkey_?"

"The kind that's actually made from socks."

"And that's it?"

"And I had a little pillow that was shaped like the moon and had some nursery rhyme embroidered on it."

"What nursery rhyme?"

"I don't remember. Probably that _hey diddle diddle_ thing. That's got a moon in it, right?"

"Where did they come from?"

"Where did _what_ come from?"

"The pillow and the sock monkey."

"My grandmother made the sock monkey. I think the pillow was a gift from one of my mother's friends."

"What happened to them?"

"When I turned five and started school, my dad did away with all of my _baby toys_."

"_Did away _with them how?"

"He said I wasn't a baby anymore. He bagged them up and gave them away to the Salvation Army."

"That's rather harsh."

"I guess."

"So you never slept with any stuffed animals or cuddly toys after that?"

"There was a quilt...it went with the pillow. I had it until I was about nine. I assume my father allowed me to keep it because it was utilitarian."

"How did you feel about your father taking away those toys?"

"I don't remember."

"Try."

"I'm sure I wasn't happy about it."

"It must have been very upsetting."

"We moved a lot. I was used to leaving things behind."

"What sort of things?"

"People, books, bicycles, houses..._things_."

"Children need soft toys to cuddle with. It's necessary for their emotional growth."

"Well I guess we can add that to the list of reasons why I'm so screwed up."

"It also helps them learn to self soothe, which you seem to be having a problem with at the moment."

"I don't need a teddy bear. I need point five milligrams of Ativan."

"No, you don't. You need physical comfort, not drugs."

"Want me to scootch over?"

"Go to sleep."

"Seriously, there's plenty of room."

"No, there isn't. It's a twin-sized bed. You're barely fitting on it as it is. Go to sleep."

"I thought you said I needed physical comfort."

"Hug your pillow."

"Now you're just being mean."

"..."

"Are you seriously going to stay?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you don't mind sleeping in that chair?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"No."

"Good. Now close your eyes and go to sleep."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"I can't."

"_Yes, you can."_

"Fine. But don't say I never gave you anything."

"Goodnight, Greg."

"Goodnight, Dr. Nolan."


	32. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 21

_House is inpatient at Mayfield again, on a short-term basis. __References to self-mutilation. Having a hard time keeping this going. It feels like a waste, when I consider where the show has ended up. Not sure how much longer I'm going to maintain the enthusiasm to write about it. I appreciate everyone who has kept up with my work and left supportive reviews. You guys are the bomb._

_Also...I just realized that I made a mistake here. House DID know that Wilson's patient was dead when he picked up the script from the pharnacy. I tend to fastforward through that scene. So I completely forgot. I can't be bothered fixing it now. So just suspend your disbelief. Thanks._

_

* * *

_****

Another Sixty Minutes

"So that's the bear, huh?"

"That's him."

"..."

"What do you think, does he look like me?"

"The cardigan sweater was a nice touch."

"How are you feeling today?"

"Okay."

"Better than last night?"

"So far."

"When was your last dosage of Ativan?"

"I just got half a milligram at six o'clock."

"And how's that working for you?"

"It's not."

"Are you anxious at all?"

"Yes. Thanks for the reminder."

"I need to ask."

"I know."

"Which brings me to my next question. How's your arm?"

"It's fine too."

"So...are we going to talk about that at all, or are we just going to pretend that nothing happened?"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"There isn't."

"I burned myself when I was smoking. It happens."

"As far as I've managed to observe, you're not a particularly clumsy person."

"So?"

"And you've admitted to having self mutilated in the past."

"_So?"_

"So...I can only deduce that this was not an accident."

"..."

"Was it?"

"..."

"This is a big deal, Greg."

"No, it's not."

"You don't think self-mutilation is a big deal?"

"I'm not some disgruntled fifteen-year-old kid with an Exacto knife."

"No…apparently you're a disgruntled fifty-year-old man with a cigarette. _Huge_ difference."

"..."

"You think your age is relevant?"

"You don't?"

"No actually, I don't."

"There was a point to it.

"Okay."

"You believe me?"

"I believe that _you_ believe you."

"Right."

"And I'd like to hear what that point was."

"Why, so you can mock me?"

"You really think I'm going to mock you?"

"…"

"Have I _ever_ mocked you?"

"Define _mock_."

"I think you're ashamed."

"I'm not ashamed of _burning _myself."

"That doesn't mean you're not ashamed of the reason."

"I don't know what you want me to say...sorry?"

"You don't have to be sorry. I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I think I know how to treat a burn."

"I'm sure you know how to treat a heart attack and a collapsed lung too. That doesn't mean you should give yourself one."

"..."

"This is a big deal, Greg. I know you think it's not. But, it is."

"..."

"If it were by accident, then I'd say it's not a big deal. But you obviously did this on purpose."

"..."

"How do you think I should respond to this?"

"How about by _not_ responding to it?"

"You know I can't do that."

"It's my business what I do to my body."

"Not while you're here it isn't."

"..."

"I need to know if you're a danger to yourself."

"Oh, for God's sake..."

"Do you just_ not_ want to go home? Is that it?"

"Are you kidding? I don't even want to _be_ here. I told you that already."

"That doesn't mean you want to be at home either. Going home means facing James, who you know isn't very happy with you right now"

"Wilson is never happy with me. No amount of time here is going to change that."

"I don't think that's true at all."

"..."

"And even if he isn't happy with you, that's a reflection of his character, not yours."

"..."

"If our roles were reversed, you would be making a big deal out of this."

"No, I wouldn't."

"Why not?"

"Because it's annoying."

"You find concern annoying."

"Yes."

"I find _that_ statement very interesting."

"It's not a big deal."

"But it _is_ a big deal."

"How about if I promise never to do it again?"

"_Will_ you promise not to do it again?"

"..."

"I'd kind of like to know why you did it in the first place."

"I would have thought you'd have that _all_ figured out by now."

"I have some theories."

"I'll bet."

"You miss the high that drugs and alcohol gave you."

"Definitely possible."

"You're in physical discomfort, and you're attempting to short circuit that by inducing a natural endorphin rush."

"Also possible."

"You're lonely and hurting and craving attention and don't know how else to ask for the comfort you need."

"Not even in the ballpark."

"Oh no?"

"..."

"I think you subconsciously enjoy making people concerned about you."

"Yes, this is me _enjoying_ your concern."

"You act annoyed. But I think you're subconsciously enjoying this."

"..."

"You don't enjoy people being concerned about you?"

"Nope."

"Then why all the high risk behavior?"

"Maybe I'm just a sociopath."

"We've covered that already. I don't think you're a sociopath."

"Well just wait until my next smoke break. I'm sure I'll have you convinced."

"Why would you want to convince me of that?"

"…"

"I think you're afraid people won't care about you, unless you give them a reason. Like say…sticking a knife into a wall socket."

"There was a point to that too."

"Ah, yes. You needed to prove there was no heaven. How'd that experiment work out, by the way?"

"I'm still...accumulating data."

"So there's a chance you might try something like that again? How many more experiments will you have to conduct before you're satisfied?"

"..."

"What about...faking brain cancer?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"What about it?"

"I spoke to James on the phone this morning. He seemed to think it was relevant."

"Well, it's not."

"..."

"You told him about the burn?"

"I alluded to it."

"Right. Thanks a lot."

"It was a physical injury. You signed a release form, giving me permission to share things relevant to your physical health. Or did you forget?"

"Remind me to amend that at my first convenience."

"He cares about you."

"Uh huh."

"His methods are flawed, yes. But so are everyone's, usually."

"..."

"I think what's important are someone's intentions."

"I'm sure."

"This is not _his_ theory, Greg. It's mine."

"..."

"His theory is that you're a selfish, self-destructive ass. I think there's a lot more than that going on here."

"I like his theory better."

"That doesn't surprise me. It's consistent with your desire to have people think the worst of you."

"..."

"You're more comfortable with me thinking you're doing it to get high, than longing for attention or comfort."

"…"

"So tell me more about faking brain cancer."

"What do you think you're going to find out?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"You're obsessed."

"And you think obsession is a negative quality? Considering the history of your own behavior, I find that rather ironic."

"..."

"You volunteered to participate in a study about depression in late stage brain cancer patients."

"..."

"They were going to apply electrical impulses directly to the nucleus accumbens, the pleasure center of your brain."

"Yep."

"Sounds delightful."

"It _would_ have been."

"So your goal was to _get happy_."

"No, my goal was to get neutral. _Happy_ is a pipe dream."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting that, Greg."

"Good to know."

"But you had to know someone would eventually discover your fraud."

"That would have been after the fact."

"So you don't care about consequences."

"I care."

"Just not enough to stop you from pursuing your agenda."

"Well, I'm a selfish, self-destructive ass."

"Of course."

"..."

"So how did you feel when James and your team thought you were dying?"

"Annoyed."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"So you just resented them for interfering. There was no guilt over making them think you might have been dying of a horrible disease."

"..."

"But you allowed them access to your medical files, did you not?"

"So?"

"Once they were aware of your supposed prognosis, you gave your team your patient ID number and allowed them to review your lab work and imaging studies."

"I was just trying to keep them busy."

"And they just happened to discover that the patient whose medical records you stole was not in fact dying of brain cancer at all, but had neurosyphilis."

"Yeah. I guess it was his lucky day."

"But not yours apparently."

"..."

"How many other times have you done this?"

"What makes you think I have?"

"You've inferred as much in previous sessions. You mentioned cutting yourself when being forced to detox, against your will."

"..."

"I'm guessing your history of high risk behavior extends all the way back into your childhood. You've done something like this at least once before, possibly harmed yourself in some other fashion."

"..."

"Right?"

"..."

"How old were you the first time?"

"I'm not talking about this."

"Why?"

"Because it's pointless and irrelevant."

"I can't force you to do anything, Greg. But you also aren't going anywhere, as long as I think you might be a danger to yourself."

"I'm not going anywhere _anyway_."

"Even so, you might as well get it over with and have this conversation."

"..."

"Right?"

"Fine."

"Is it?"

"No."

"..."

"You want to talk about self destructive?"

"Yes."

"Okay, how's this? How about swallowing an entire bottle of aspirin? Where does that rank?"

"Did you really do that, or are you just going for shock value?"

"..."

"How old were you when that happened?"

"Ten."

"Seriously?"

"No, I'm lying."

"_No_, you're not."

"..."

"How many aspirin did you take?"

"I don't know...I didn't count them. I just took however many were left in the bottle."

"Estimate."

"Maybe...forty or fifty? Took me several glasses of water to get them all down."

"I assume they pumped your stomach afterwards."

"I'm sure they did."

"You don't remember?"

"..."

"What _do_ you remember?"

"I remember having excruciating abdominal pain, passing out on my bedroom floor and waking up in the hospital...bright lights and angry faces."

"How did your parents react?"

"Well, they weren't exactly thrilled."

"So they weren't at all concerned about you?"

"They were more concerned about appearances, I think."

"Meaning what?"

"..."

"So they were just angry at you for embarrassing them, for drawing negative attention to yourself."

"..."

"Do you think it's possible that you misinterpreted that?"

"Nope."

"What did your father actually say?"

"He didn't."

"He didn't say anything at all?"

"He just stood there and shook his head. Once I was discharged and home again, he never mentioned it."

"He never brought it up again, not even casually?"

"Nope."

"Did your attending recommend a psych consult?"

"I have no idea. I'm not sure my parents would have told me if he had. A doctor spoke with me alone briefly, asked me a series of rather random questions and decided that I was okay to be discharged."

"Ten years old is young to attempt suicide. I'm surprised they didn't commit you."

"I wasn't trying to kill myself."

"What _were_ you trying to do?"

"..."

"Ten year olds don't accidentally ingest entire bottles of aspirin."

"I didn't say it was an _accident_. I just...wasn't trying to kill myself."

"Perhaps you were just crying out for attention."

"..."

"Why _did_ you do it?"

"I don't know."

"I'm not accepting that answer anymore."

"..."

"What was going on in your life, at the time?"

"My dad had just come home, after being gone for almost a year."

"This is when you were staying with your grandparents?"

"Yeah."

"You'd become accustomed to a certain way of living. Being suddenly subject to his tyranny was probably a bit of a shock."

"..."

"So you were miserable, _that _early on in life?"

"I was born miserable."

"I doubt it."

"..."

"People are not born miserable, Greg. Something must have happened to make you that way, something outside of your control. I know that messes with your need to believe that you're to blame for every bad thing that happens. But it's the truth."

"..."

"Any other notable events from your childhood?"

"Like what?"

"Like anything...self harm, self imposed injury, flirting with disaster?"

"I jumped out of a window once."

"And how old were you when you did that?"

"Fourteen."

"Second story?"

"Third."

"Wow. Were you hurt?"

"Some bushes broke my fall."

"They must have been very thick bushes."

"They were."

"You're lucky you didn't break both legs."

"I fractured my wrist and my clavicle."

"What did your parents have to say about that?"

"That I was an idiot."

"They actually said that?"

"My father did."

"So he dismissed it as typical, teenaged recklessness. He wasn't at all concerned that you might be a danger to yourself."

"..."

"Why _did_ you do it?"

"It was a dare."

"Who would dare you to do that?"

"Kid in my class."

"What was in it for you?"

"Twenty dollars."

"You jumped out of a third story window for twenty dollars?"

"That surprises you?"

"No. I suppose that was a lot of money for a kid, back in the early seventies."

"..."

"What about as an adult?"

"What about it?"

"I mean, how have you harmed yourself, as an adult?"

"I smashed my hand with a desk blotter."

"On purpose?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"About five years ago."

"Did you break anything?"

"Metacarpal of my index finger."

"Why on Earth would you do that?"

"I was in pain."

"More than usual?"

"I was detoxing."

"Why were you detoxing?"

"Dr. Cuddy bet me that I couldn't go a week without Vicodin."

"And you took her up on it? What was the prize?"

"A week without clinic duty."

"You'd break your hand, just to get out of clinic duty?"

"..."

"I'm thinking you must really hate clinic duty."

"..."

"And that's it? No other forms of self mutilation?"

"..."

"Tell me about cutting yourself. Saturday you mentioned that you'd cut yourself, on another occasion that you were forced to detox. When was this?"

"It was Christmas Eve, three years ago."

"And why were you being forced to detox?"

"I told you that cop found all those pills in my apartment. Shortly after, Wilson's assets were seized and he was forced to shut down his practice."

"For refusing to testify against you?"

"Yes."

"And how did that lead to you having to detox?"

"A few days later, Wilson made a deal with the district attorney."

"Why do you think he did that?"

"I blew a case, almost maimed my patient...and I hit one of my employees."

"Dr. Chase."

"Yes."

"What did this deal entail?"

"If I submitted to eight weeks in rehab, they would drop the charges."

"That sounds like a reasonable arrangement."

"..."

"What were the charges?"

"Driving under the influence, possession with intent to traffic, resisting arrest, forgery and fraud."

"How long would they have put you away for?"

"Ten years at least."

"But you didn't take the deal, did you?"

"Cuddy cut me off from Vicodin, until I agreed to accept treatment."

"And you still refused?"

"..."

"Perhaps being alone on Christmas Eve was a bit more than you could take."

"It didn't have anything to do with that."

"Then what _did_ it have to do with?"

"I told you...I was detoxing."

"So you were just hoping to control your brain's pain gating mechanism."

"Yes."

"Did it work?"

"For a while, yeah."

"And what did you do when it stopped working?"

"I told you already."

"This is when you tried to scam the ER doc for drugs and ended up stealing pills from the pharmacy."

"Yeah."

"And how did that transpire?"

"I went to Princeton General's urgent care clinic. I lied and said I'd been in an automobile accident, faked some ambiguous injury, asked for pain meds."

"And that was unsuccessful."

"The other doctor offered me Codeine. In hindsight, I should have just accepted it. But I was desperate and I pushed for the Vicodin."

"Did he call security?"

"He threatened to. But I left willingly."

"And what about stealing the drugs from the pharmacy?"

"Wilson had a patient who was dying in the ICU, metastatic lung cancer. I knew he had a script pending at the pharmacy. I went and signed for it. I had no idea that the patient had passed away two hours earlier."

"You must have known there was a chance that you'd be caught."

"I guess I didn't care."

"You guess?"

"..."

"You look very serious right now."

"Eh."

"What's on your mind?"

"It's stupid."

"I doubt it."

"I feel like...such a pathetic piece of shit."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because it's true."

"…"

"I knew when I was doing it, that it was wrong."

"Okay."

"I even knew there was a chance I might end up going to prison."

"…"

"Thing is…I didn't care. It wasn't enough to stop me. All I cared about was that moment. All I cared about was getting high. I didn't care about the consequences. I just kept popping the pills. I didn't want to feel anything. I was so wasted that I couldn't think straight. I _drove_ wasted. Then I went home and got_ more_ wasted. I didn't have to be alone. I could have spent the evening with Wilson. Instead I chose to commit a felony."

"And you think_ that_ makes you a pathetic piece of shit."

"The look on his face…after everything I'd done to him, he _still _wanted to spend the holiday with me. And I laughed at him...laughed. I crushed him. For once, the tables were turned. I had the power to crush him and…I enjoyed it."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"I mean, Why do you think you enjoyed it?"

"..."

"It was Vicodin that you stole?"

"No, Oxy."

"Huh."

"I took the whole bottle."

"What do you mean?"

"I...took the whole thing."

"At once?"

"No...thirty-six pills over twelve hours."

"You took thirty-six ten milligram tablets of Oxycodone in twelve hours?"

"Yeah."

"You're lucky you didn't go into respiratory arrest."

"And I chased it with some whiskey."

"Were you trying to kill yourself?"

"I don't know."

"So, is that a _maybe?"_

"No, it's an_ I don't know_."

"You were either trying to kill yourself or your weren't."

"..."

"What happened?"

"I passed out...woke up in a puddle of puke."

"No, I mean what happened that you felt the need to down an entire bottle of Oxy in twelve hours?"

"I told you, I was detoxing. I was in pain."

"So? Why not take two or three? That would have been enough to treat the pain and keep the withdrawals at bay. Why take the whole bottle?"

"Things were...I don't know."

"Think about it."

"I really thought I was going to prison."

"..."

"I guess I just...didn't care."

"You guess?"

"..."

"You either cared or you didn't, Greg."

"..."

"Maybe you _were_ trying to kill yourself."

"..."

"You could have died."

"But I didn't."

"But you_ could_ have."

"Wilson came to check on me, sometime around eleven, eleven-thirty."

"He did."

"..."

"How did he find you?"

"I was laying on the floor in a puddle of spew."

"Why were you on the floor?"

"I'd been sitting on the couch. I got up to head into the bedroom and didn't make it."

"You lost consciousness?"

"Not right away. I was in and out."

"Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"

"I bruised my hip. The left one, fortunately."

"Did James clean you up?"

"No."

"No?"

"He just...he came in, stayed for a few minutes and let himself out."

"Why would he do that?"

"I think I still had the empty bottle of pills in my hand."

"And he found it. He was angry that you'd stolen the pills from his dead patient, instead of taking the deal that was being offered to you."

"I'm sure he wasn't happy."

"You could have aspirated."

"Yeah."

"Even if he was angry. He should have at least made sure you okay."

"I'd already thrown up, by the time he found me."

"You could still have aspirated."

"Hey...it's water under the bridge."

"If you say so."

"..."

"How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"That he would leave you in that state."

"I don't know. I guess...I don't know."

"Were you scared?"

"..."

"We're you angry?"

"..."

"You must have been feeling something."

"..."

"So you're fine with it, that James would leave you lying there like that. Your best friend left you to die from a drug overdose, on the floor of your apartment...on Christmas Eve, no less."

"I already told you. He invited me to spend the evening with him and I laughed in his face."

"Why do you think you did that?"

"I don't know. I guess I was angry."

"You guess? Why is it so hard for you to own your feelings? How hard is it to say you were angry?"

"..."

"That's wasn't rhetorical."

"I was angry."

"Good. About what?"

"That he'd made the deal with the cops, that he thought I wouldn't care, that I'd be so desperate for company that I'd spend time with him anyway, even if he was sending me to prison for ten years."

"So you felt betrayed."

"..."

"Did you feel betrayed or not?"

"..."

"Why is it so difficult for you to admit that you felt betrayed?"

"See...the sad thing is, I wouldn't have minded spending the night with him. Sometimes I wonder how differently things would have gone if I had."

"So why didn't you?"

"I didn't...I mean, I knew that he was just trying to help me...I knew that I needed help. I just...couldn't let go of the need to be right."

"And if you accepted help, that would mean admitting that you were wrong."

"..."

"You have a hard time with that, I've noticed."

"..."

"Did he ever apologize?"

"For what?"

"For leaving you laying there like that?"

"No."

"Did _you_ ever apologize for stealing the pills from his patient?"

"Yes, actually."

"When?"

"I ended up going to rehab anyway."

"Why?"

"Sometimes around midnight on Christmas Eve, I went down to the police station to accept the deal. But by that time, the cop had already found out about the pills I'd stolen from the pharmacy. He told me the deal was off the table. I was out of options. So I figured I had nothing to lose. I thought it might help my case, if I went voluntarily."

"How long did you stay in rehab?"

"I was there for fifty-six days."

"But you said before that you cheated, paid some orderly to bring you Vicodin."

"Yeah."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I don't know."

"Do you feel bad?"

"I was just...doing what I thought I had to do."

"So when did you apologize to James?"

"He came to see me when I was in rehab, and I apologized to him then."

"How did he react?"

"I'm not sure if he believed me."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. He just seemed...skeptical."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you felt that his actions were justified."

"What actions?"

"Leaving you alone in your apartment on Christmas Eve."

"They _were _justified."

"So you stole pills from a patient. You...laughed in his face. You refused to take the deal that was being offered to you. Therefore you deserve to choke to death on your own vomit? Life doesn't work that way, Greg."

"I stole narcotics from my best friend's dead patient and went on an Oxy binge."

"And that's terrible, right? That makes you a terrible person. There's nothing you can do to overcome that mistake."

"..."

"Greg...you screwed up. You did something really selfish and stupid. You're a human being. Get over it and move on. You can't keep holding these things against yourself. It's...not healthy."

"Everyone else is going to hold them against me anyway. What difference does it make?"

"So what? Let them. Other people don't determine your worth."

"Then who the hell _does_ determine my worth?"

"You do."

"Right."

"You don't agree?"

"..."

"So any other instances of self mutilation?"

"Not that I can think of."

"What about general recklessness?"

"I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Tell me about being shot."

"What…you think I have PTSD?"

"Did I _say_ that?"

"..."

"We're just having a conversation. I've never known anyone who was shot. I'm curious."

"Me being shot wasn't a result of recklessness, at least not mine."

"I know that. I'm just curious."

"What do you want to know, exactly?"

"Why don't you just tell me what happened?"

"I told you this before. I'd been at work for about thirty minutes. I was in my office. We were doing a differential. A guy walked in and _bam_. I was on the floor."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know. Some guy."

"He didn't look the slightest bit familiar?"

"A little."

"But you don't know who he was?"

"He was probably the family member of a former patient."

"But you're not sure?"

"..."

"Why did he want to shoot you?"

"He didn't say."

"What _did_ he say?"

"Not much."

"And you haven't speculated as to the reason?"

"I assume I did something to rub him the wrong way. The way I treat people, it was bound to happen eventually."

"You regard the possibility of someone trying to murder you as an inevitability?"

"..."

"I find that rather distressing."

"..."

"You don't place much value on yourself, do you? You think it's okay for people to shoot you. You think it's okay for people to leave you to choke on your own vomit."

"..."

"Did you at least file a police report?"

"Cuddy did."

"Did they ever catch the guy?"

"Nope."

"And you're not the least bit concerned that a man who broke into your office and shot you at point blank is still running around free?"

"I doubt he'd try it again."

"Why?"

"We had another gunman takes some hostages in the clinic last year. Hospital security's been beefed up since then."

"I see."

"..."

"But if he really wanted you dead, surely he could track you down somewhere other than the hospital."

"I don't think he wanted me dead."

"Why?"

"Something he said. I think he just...wanted me to suffer."

"Did you suffer?"

"Well, it wasn't the most pleasant experience."

"So tell me about that…what was it like?"

"I don't really remember."

"But you remember that it wasn't pleasant."

"..."

"You think you blocked it out?"

"Not all of it. I remember being in my office. I remember him coming in, asking which one of us was _House_. Then I remember being on the gurney, bright lights flashing by overhead. I remember the feeling of someone, putting pressure on my neck, trying to hold my jugular together."

"That must have been very frightening."

"Not really."

"No?"

"That's just it...it should have been scary. I should have been scared. But I wasn't."

"You weren't."

"It was...I can't explain. I had this warm, tingly feeling in my stomach. It was like...it was almost like being stoned."

"I've heard other people report similar experiences. In the face of death, instead of fear they were overwhelmed with peace."

"I'm not sure I'd use the word _peace_, more like...I just didn't care. Even though I had no reason to believe it, I really thought everything would be okay."

"That's what peace is, Greg."

"Oh."

"Interesting that you wouldn't recognize it."

"..."

"Even more interesting that you would compare it to being stoned."

"..."

"How do you feel when you're stoned?"

"_Stoned_."

"I'm serious. The experience is different for everyone. I want to know what it's like for you."

"I don't know, lightheaded, hazy...apathetic?"

"Sounds wonderful."

"..."

"Perhaps your drug addiction is related to a desire to experience peace."

"..."

"So what's going on, Greg? We had a really good session yesterday. Why the self mutilation?"

"..."

"What's that expression?"

"Just...stop calling it that."

"Sorry. What would you like me to call it?"

"..."

"Why _did_ you burn yourself?"

"I don't know."

"I can't help you, if you're going to lie to me."

"I'm not lying. I just don't know."

"But you _did_ do it on purpose."

"..."

"So you just suddenly felt the urge to sear your own flesh."

"..."

"I'm having trouble believing that."

"..."

"This is a big deal, Greg. This is...normally when a patient does something like this, I put them on suicide watch."

"Yeah, I bet you'd _love_ that."

"You honestly think this is about me? I think it's about you."

"..."

"Maybe if you could provide some sort of plausible explanation..."

"It helps with the pain."

"You told me your pain levels have been tolerable."

"Sometimes it flares up."

"Are you really that simple, Greg?"

"..."

"At the risk of being inconsiderate, I don't believe you."

"Then why bother asking me?"

"You can learn a lot from someone's answers, even if they're lies. I would think you'd know that as well as anyone else."

"..."

"You're on medication. You're in therapy. You're...coping. Outside of your issues with alcohol and narcotics, you're managing your life."

"Yeah, I'm clearly doing a bang up job."

"Maybe that's the problem."

"..."

"It's because you _are_ doing a bang up job. You're struggling with your addictions. But other than that, you're functioning. You're doing well, for the most part. You've admitted to me already that you're the closest you've ever been to happy."

"..."

"So...maybe you're afraid James will lose interest you, now that you're not nearly as needy or dysfunctional."

"Our relationship isn't based on that."

"Isn't it? Your relationship up until now has been based almost entirely on your dysfunction. You screw up and he cleans up the mess. You get lost and he scrambles to rescue you from your own misery."

"..."

"Normally when we're kids...we're not as easily discouraged as we are as adults. We reach out to those around us for comfort whenever we need it. When that behavior is positively rewarded, it conditions us to reach out again and again. When we reach out and get nothing, we try other things. We...misbehave or act out for attention. Because ultimately, we need that comfort."

"I don't _need_ comfort."

"You're a fool if you believe that."

"..."

"Try this instead. _I have no idea what I need_."

"Right."

"No, I want you to actually say it."

"Why?"

"Because I think it would be helpful for you to admit it."

"..."

"Greg?"

"Fine...I have no idea what I need, happy?"

"And that's very painful and confusing. Isn't it?"

"..."

"Makes us want to do things, like stick knives in light sockets and burn ourselves with cigarettes."

"You just _had_ to go there."

"I'm sorry. I know how frustrating it is for you when I know what I'm talking about."

"..."

"I want you to try this. I know it's going to be hard for you. But the next time you get the urge to...self harm, I want you to get a hug instead."

"_What?"_

"..."

_"_Uh, and from whom would I be getting this hug?"

"From anyone."

"You want me to just...start hugging random people."

"Start with the people in your life."

"There aren't that many people _in my life_."

"What about James?"

"He's not here."

"But he _can_ visit. He visits you twice a week. And you will eventually be going home."

"..."

"Or me. I wouldn't mind hugging you. You know that."

"Right."

"..."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do this, just walk up and ask?"

"Yes."

"..."

"Tell James that you're having a hard time, and ask for a hug."

"I can't picture myself doing that, in the universe in which we live."

"Then don't ask. Just try hugging him and see what happens."

"..."

"It's foreign, I know. But trust me, it works."

"..."

"You weren't hugged much as a child, were you?"

"..."

"But you _were_ hugged...you admitted as much a few weeks ago."

"..."

"Do you remember when?"

"My dad...usually when he came home, after some assignment."

"So he'd hug you as a greeting, after a long absence."

"Yeah."

"How old were you when he stopped doing that?"

"Maybe...twelve?"

"About the same time you revealed to him that you knew he wasn't your biological father."

"..."

"Do you think there might be a connection?"

"I'm sure there is."

"What about your mother?"

"She was about the same."

"So hugging was for special occasions and not every day."

"She was affectionate with me, until I was about five. After that, it was fairly superficial."

"That's not at all unusual. It's actually more common than not. But people need physical contact, Greg. Even adults need regular, physical affection. If...whatever it was that you and James were already doing together were enough, you wouldn't feel this confusion."

"..."

"You seem very uncomfortable to me, Greg."

"Ativan withdrawal."

"I don't think so."

"..."

"You're afraid of what he's going to think. You're afraid he's just going to analyze it, instead of taking you at face value."

"..."

"Do you love him?"

"Haven't we been over this?"

"Are you _in _love with him?"

"Again, haven't we been over this?"

"..."

"Why are you having so much trouble with the idea of physical affection?"

"..."

"You'd have sexual intercourse with him, right? That's a rather intimate act."

"..."

"So, why not hug?"

"It's...complicated."

"I'll bet."

"..."

"Tell you what, why don't you try it before you decide it's not going to work."

"Yeah? And what happens when it _doesn't_ work?"

"We'll deal with that when the time comes."

"..."

"You have every right to be apprehensive."

"Good to know."

"Looks like our time is up."

"Oh darn."

"Now _I'm_ going to give you a hug."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am. Deal with it."

"Don't you need my permission before you can touch me?"

"Not if I'm administering treatment."

"A hug is not treatment."

"It is now."

"..."

"See, now isn't that better?"

"No."

"Well, too bad. Get used to it."


	33. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 22

_I feel like I'm running out of things for them to talk about. I've realized that I've probably made consistency errors in my own story, because I didn't really plot it out in advance. But I also realize that because this is supposed to be like real life, things can be repeated, forgotten or rehashed. So there you are. I'm giving myself an out._

_Upsetting subject matter, in regards to House's childhood._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

How are you doing today?"

"Fine."

"How's your arm?"

"Same as it was the last ten times you asked."

"It's going to leave a scar."

"_Everything_ leaves a scar."

"Hmm...you're angry with me about something."

"Nope."

"Perhaps you're just angry."

"Nope."

"I think you are."

"I'm cranky."

"Why?"

"I'm anxious and in Ativan withdrawal. I don't want to be here. That hasn't changed."

"But you _are_ here."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"You already know that it's temporary."

"Not temporary enough."

"..."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"It's not your fault that I'm here. It's my fault. I know that."

"It pleases me to hear you taking responsibility for your actions."

"Well, you guys have been ramming it down my throat for the past week. I was bound to choke on it eventually."

"I understand that this is hard. I want you to know that I appreciate the effort that you're making, despite not wanting to be here."

"..."

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Just making sure. You tend to completely disregard praise. So I wanted to make sure it got through."

"..."

"But I also feel like there are some issues that you're not going to address, unless you're not given a choice."

"That's a very astute observation, since I'm not going to address _any_ of my issues, unless I'm not given a choice."

"Again, it's good that you can acknowledge that."

"Well, hooray for me."

"The fact of the matter is, we've glossed over a lot of things in the past. But I really think we should talk about them some more."

"There's nothing left to talk about."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"..."

"I went through my notes last night."

"Of course you did."

"I was looking for holes and gaps, things that you've implied, but been reluctant to declare."

"Just what is it that you think I need to _declare?"_

"I'd like to talk some more about your childhood, specifically your father. I think he's definitely a big part of what's going on with you now. I think that a lot of your self esteem issues stem from your relationship with your father."

"What do want to know?"

"His treatment of you. You've been fairly vague about a lot of things. And I think it's been a mistake for me to allow you to get away with that."

"I haven't been vague. I've told you a lot...more than anyone else knows."

"But not everything that's relevant."

"Do you really need to know _everything_?"

"I don't _need_ to know it. But I think you need to _talk_ about it. I think there are details that you've deliberately omitted, because you're not ready to face them."

"And you think I'm ready now?"

"I think you need to accept the fact that you'll never feel ready, that you just need to _do_ it and get it over with."

"…"

"It's clear to me that your father's methods of discipline were traumatic for you. I'd like to know more about how and why."

"..."

"Is there anything he did to you or with you, that you might have been reluctant to discuss?"

"..."

"And as if I needed further proof. I can see that this subject is already making you uncomfortable, and we haven't even started yet."

"…"

"So, you _are_ uncomfortable?"

"You already know that I am. Why do you feel the need to point it out?"

"Why are you uncomfortable?"

"I don't know."

"I'm not accepting that answer today."

"Then what am I supposed to say? If I don't know, I _don't know_. I'm not just going to make something up to satisfy your curiosity."

"But I think you _do_ know."

"..."

"Why are you so uncomfortable with this topic?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"I don't like thinking about it and I definitely don't like talking about it."

"But why?"

"I just don't. I need a reason? I don't like pickles either. You need a reason for that too?"

"Do you _have_ one?"

"..."

"You've mentioned before that you weren't well behaved. Perhaps you're ashamed of that."

"..."

"Perhaps you're ashamed of your behavior. Perhaps you're ashamed that you did things that warranted excessive discipline."

"You're baiting me."

"You're not giving me much of a choice."

"..."

"..."

"Look, I don't know."

"What _don't _you know?"

"I don't know if he was _abusive_. I'm not sure anymore what that means. Maybe he was and maybe he wasn't. Maybe it was just me. Maybe I was just an overly sensitive kid. I just know that…the way he did things…it wasn't necessary."

"In what sense?"

"..."

"What about it was unnecessary?"

"It was sadistic and humiliating."

"How so?"

"..."

"So you think his goal was to humiliate you?"

"..."

"You can't even talk about it."

"No, I can't. It's hard. Okay?"

"I know it. I know it's hard. I never said it wasn't."

"I really don't want to talk about this."

"I know that too."

"I'll talk about whatever else you want to talk about. Just not this."

"Why?"

"I just don't see how rehashing it is going to make me feel any better. All you're doing is digging up stuff that I would rather forget. You think it's going to help. But really, it's not. It's just a waste of time."

"You already know that I don't believe that."

"…"

"You want some water?"

"No. I want to change the subject."

"That's not going to happen."

"..."

"So you think his goal was to humiliate you?"

"..."

"It's just a question."

"A question that I don't want to answer."

"..."

"I used to think that he wanted to humiliate me. Now...I'm not so sure."

"What aren't you sure about?"

"..."

"What's changed?"

"..."

"Tell me about that."

"About what?"

"Tell me about being humiliated."

"…"

"Greg, you're going to feel so much better if you tell me these things. I know it doesn't seem like it. But it's true. I really wish you'd just trust me."

"I trust you."

"You do?"

"My reluctance to discuss this has nothing to do with that."

"What does it have to do with, then?"

"..."

"One way or another, we're going to have to talk about this. If you really do trust me, then it shouldn't be a problem."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes it is."

"..."

"..."

"Just...give me a second. I need to think."

"Okay."

"..."

"..."

"Alright, what do you want to know? Keep it simple."

"Just walk me through it. Your committed some offense and your father disciplined you for it. How would that go?"

"I said _simple_."

"So tell me in _simple_ terms."

"He'd come home and punish me."

"More specifically?"

"You already know."

"I want the finer details."

"Of course you do. You want me to draw some pictures too? Maybe we can do a reenactment."

"You _need_ to talk about this."

"No, I _don't_."

"So you'd commit some offense and your father would find out. Then what? How would he find out what you'd done?"

"Stop."

"No."

"..."

"Just tell me _simply_."

"Usually I'd…whatever it was, my mom would be the first to find out. Teachers would call or send a note, and she didn't work. So she was always home."

"She never went out?"

"Just to do the grocery shopping. She didn't even have that many friends. She wasn't antisocial. She just...liked keeping to herself."

"Did that happen often?"

"Did what happen often?"

"Teachers having a reason to notify your parents about your behavior."

"Often enough."

"So your mother would be the one to tell your father what had happened?"

"Yes."

"And how did that go?"

"When he wasn't on some kind of assignment, my dad would come home at exactly five fifteen. We'd eat dinner at exactly five forty-five. You could set your watch by it. She would tell him as soon as he got home."

"Your dad placed a lot of value on punctuality."

"Yeah."

"Did you eat dinner on time when he wasn't home?"

"Normally...not always. But even if we didn't, it was only off by a matter of minutes."

"What time did you get home from school?"

"Three-ish. I usually had to walk. Some places we lived, I rode the bus. But mostly, I walked."

"Your mother didn't own a car?"

"Not until I was in high school."

"So you dreaded waiting, I'll bet."

"…"

"Tell me about that, about waiting for your dad to come home."

"..."

"Just...tell me _simply_."

"It sucked."

"_How_ did it suck?"

"It was...you know, my stomach would hurt. I would get acid reflux."

"You mentioned before that you suspected you may have had an ulcer. Did you ever throw up?"

"Sometimes. Not that often. But I would almost always lose my appetite...and have trouble eating dinner that evening. Then that would lead to even more trouble, because I was expected to clean my plate."

"Did your parents ever notice any of this?"

"They noticed I wasn't eating. But they didn't seem to be aware of the reason. Or more accurately, they didn't seem to _care_ about the reason."

"And you never mentioned it to them."

"I didn't see the point."

"Right. If they were unconcerned about a suicide attempt, stands to reason that wouldn't be phased by a loss of appetite."

"..."

"So your father would come home, find out that you'd committed some offense and then what?"

"Usually he'd spend about three to five minutes talking to my mother, before coming to my room."

"So he'd otherwise address the matter immediately?"

"Yes."

"And then what?"

"..."

"Just...whenever you're ready."

"..."

"..."

"He'd come to my room and...close and lock the door behind him. Or he'd come to my room and tell me to accompany him to the den or basement or...wherever."

"And you'd just go along with him?"

"I didn't have a choice."

"But you went willingly?"

"No..."

"When he took you to the basement or the den, would he lock the door in those places as well?"

"If there was a lock, yes."

"So there wasn't always a lock."

"Sometimes there wasn't even a door."

"Why do you think he did that?"

"Did what?"

"Closed and locked the door, when there was one."

"I assume he didn't want to be interrupted."

"By your mother?"

"By _anyone_."

"Did your mother ever interrupt?"

"No."

"How did you feel about that...that he would lock the door behind him?"

"I didn't really think about it."

"Think about it now."

"..."

"Did you sense there was anything wrong with what he was doing, at the time?"

"No."

"How did you feel, knowing that the door was locked?"

"I don't remember."

"Maybe you felt insecure or unsafe?"

"I felt like...no one could help me. I could scream at the top of my lungs and...it wouldn't matter."

"Which is sort of like feeling insecure and unsafe."

"Yes, I felt_ insecure and unsafe_. Okay?"

"Okay."

"..."

"And you said you didn't go willingly."

"..."

"So you put up a fight?"

"Not a _fight_ exactly."

"What _did_ you do, exactly?"

"..."

"This is hard, I know."

"..."

"Would you cry?"

"..."

"Don't think too hard about it, Greg. Just say it."

"I'd, you know...blubber and beg and all that jazz."

"Beg for him to not go through with it."

"Yeah."

"And was that ever successful?"

"Nope."

"And that's what you're ashamed of, isn't it?"

"..."

"You feel like you were weak or a coward, because you couldn't just accept your punishment."

"..."

"But that was just your personality, Greg. It sounds like you were a very sensitive young man. It makes sense that your father's brand of discipline would be traumatic for you."

"..."

"The fact of the matter is, that it wasn't the punishment itself that you were dreading, but the humiliation."

"..."

"And that's okay, Greg. No one wants to be humiliated, especially not by their own parents."

"..."

"Would he berate you for this?"

"For what?"

"For pleading that he not go through with it."

"God, yes."

"How?"

"Just...he'd say I was pathetic, that I needed to suck it up and take it like a man."

"He actually used the word _pathetic_?"

"Sometimes."

"But you weren't a man, Greg."

"Yeah, I know that..._now_."

"But at the time, you probably felt like you were expected to be an adult and not a child."

"That's...a fairly accurate assessment."

"Your attempts to appeal to his sympathy were obviously unsuccessful."

"..."

"So what would happen next?"

"..."

"Greg, breathe."

"I _am _breathing."

"More deeply and more slowly. In through the nose and out through the mouth."

"I _do_ know how to breathe."

"Well, you look like you're about ready to hyperventilate."

"..."

"So what would happen next?"

"What do you think would happen next?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking you."

"He'd...take off his belt."

"And?"

"..."

"Just take your time. We're not in a hurry."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Just take a few deep breaths."

"You know everything that you need to know about my childhood."

"..."

"And...it's not going to help me in any way, telling you this."

"..."

"Seriously. Maybe tomorrow. I'm going to be here for another seven and a half weeks, right? Plenty of time to talk about this."

"It's tomorrow, Greg. _Now's_ the time."

"..."

"Just...whenever you're ready."

"..."

"..."

"He'd uh...fold his belt in half and just kind of hold it in his hand..."

"Then what?"

"Then he'd lecture me about…whatever it was I'd done."

"So he'd lecture you, _while_ holding his belt?"

"Sometimes he'd..."

"..."

"You know...he'd snap it and swing it around."

"Trying to scare you?"

"I guess."

"_Did_ it scare you?"

"..."

"How long did his lectures tend to last?"

"Usually...less than a minute. Other times, up to a half an hour."

"That must have been very difficult to stand there and listen, knowing what was coming."

"..."

"How did that make you feel, waiting?"

"I don't think I heard a word he said."

"Why not?"

"I _couldn't_ hear him. I mean, it was like...white noise."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"I was…terrified of him."

"..."

"I was terrified of...you know. God, I was terrified he'd realize that I wasn't listening."

"What would he do when he was finished lecturing you?"

"I've told you this already."

"And now you can tell me again."

"..."

"..."

"I was expected to _ask_ him to discipline me."

"How did he make this expectation known to you?"

"He'd just...stand there and wait."

"I meant prior to that. How did he initially make it known?"

"He told me _once_. After that I was expected to do it without being asked."

"Only once?"

"He didn't much like having to repeat himself. He reminded me a few times. But other than that, I was expected to know."

"How old were you when he told you this, for the first time?"

"I don't remember, five or six?"

"That's how old you were, when he started hitting you with a belt?"

"Yeah."

"That's kind of young."

"I guess."

"You said before that he'd sometimes hit you with a paddle. How often did he do that?"

"It was rare. Only a couple of times. Plus I intentionally misplaced it during one of our moves and he never made any effort to get another one."

"How old were you when you misplaced it?"

"I don't know. Not very old. Nine maybe? No older than ten."

"..."

"The weird this is...he wouldn't start until I'd asked."

"Until you'd asked him to discipline you?"

"Yeah."

"And you would?"

"Eventually."

"So this ordeal would often take a while."

"Yeah. I tended to find ways to drag it out."

"How so?"

"We were both stubborn. But he'd wait me out. He used to say he could wait all day, if he had to. A couple times, he actually did."

"But things eventually got underway?"

"Eventually."

"And what would happen then?"

"…"

"I know this is hard, Greg. I'm not trying to torture you here. I know it seems cruel, like I just want to humiliate you. But that's not what this is about. I just want you to feel better. I want you to be able to talk about the things that have hurt you, so you can get rid of that hurt and move on."

"..."

"No rush."

"Mmm...nope. I'm not doing this."

"Why not?"

"It's not going to help."

"I know it's painful. It's embarrassing. But _not _talking about it is what's hurting you."

"It's _not_ going to help."

"You_ know_ that's not true."

"..."

"They're just words. That's all. Just words. And no one is going to hear them, but you and me."

"..."

"What would happen next? Don't think about it too much. Just say it."

"No."

"..."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"Why is this so important?"

"You already know the answer to that."

"..."

"You don't deserve to be in pain, Greg. Get it out. Get rid of it so you can move on."

"I was expected to drop trou and...assume the appropriate position."

"What sort of position?"

"Bent over."

"Over what?"

"The bed, or chair or arm of the couch or whatever the hell it happened to be."

"And then what?"

"..."

"I know this is embarrassing. But you've got to tell me."

"..."

"You can do this."

"No, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"It's just...too weird."

"Weird how?"

"..."

"..."

"I had to…fold my arms and keep them tucked underneath my chest."

"Why would you have to do that?"

"Use your imagination."

"No."

"..."

"I want you to tell me."

"..."

"What purpose would that serve?"

"It was...to prevent me from reaching back."

"Reaching back for what?"

"..."

"You mean to protect yourself?"

"..."

"Did he ever restrain you?"

"No."

"Did you ever reach back and try to protect yourself?"

"Sure."

"How would your father react?"

"He'd just tell me to move my hands."

"And you'd obey?"

"I'd try to."

"But you didn't always succeed."

"He hit my hand once...more than once, actually."

"With the belt?"

"Yeah."

"Did he mean to?"

"I don't think so. I mean, in his defense...usually he was rather insistent about me keeping my hands out of the way. I just...didn't listen."

"Still, that must have been very painful."

"..."

"How did he react to that?"

"He said it was my fault, for reaching back."

"Well, that's true. But that doesn't mean he couldn't have apologized for causing you unnecessary pain."

"My dad never apologized for anything."

"I see. And that must be very significant to you. You've made that observation several times before."

"..."

"How many times would he hit you?"

"It varied."

"How hard would he hit you?"

"Hard enough."

"And what happened when he was done?"

"..."

"Would he just leave? Would he say anything?"

"I had to stand up, keep my hands at my sides, and sincerely thank him for disciplining me."

"And you were exposed during this time."

"Just...you know, from the waist down to my ankles."

"Did you ever cry while you were being disciplined?"

"I tried not to."

"But did you ever?"

"Sometimes. Not much past the age of twelve."

"Did your dad ever make any attempt to comfort or hug you afterwards?"

"No."

"What about your mom?"

"What about her?"

"If she knew you'd just been disciplined, did she ever try to comfort you afterwards?"

"No. She must have known what was going on. But she kind of...she almost pretended like it never happened. She didn't talk about it. She would just serve dinner and go on about her business."

"Did your dad ever make any attempt to verbally reassure you?"

"Not really."

"Not really?"

"Sometimes he'd slap me on the back or clamp a hand down on my shoulder. But even his version of a pep talk was...demeaning. He could turn anything into an insult."

"So perhaps he was trying to be reassuring in his own way, and merely failed?"

"I think that's possible, yes."

"Did you ever _try_ to seek comfort from him?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, did you ever try to hug him or ask for physical affection?"

"I might have, when I was really little. I honestly don't remember."

"Did he ever call attention to your nudity?"

"He...didn't even seem to be aware of it."

"Perhaps he'd become desensitized to it, due to the time he'd spent in the military."

"Maybe."

"Did you ever see your father naked?"

"When I was really little."

"How little?"

"Maybe four or younger. We'd shower together sometimes. I'd see him shirtless on occasion, during the summer. But I don't think I saw him naked after that. He was fairly modest in that regard."

"What about you? Did you ever walk around naked, outside of when you were being disciplined?"

"I'd sometimes go shirtless. But completely nude, not past the age of five."

"What about your mother?"

"I can't recall having ever seeing her naked. Even at the beach, she would cover herself up. She wouldn't even go in the sun without a hat."

"So nudity was fairly taboo in your home."

"For lack of a better term, yeah."

"So how do you feel about having to be naked in front of your father, especially once you'd begun puberty?"

"I don't know."

"I'm not accepting that answer today, Greg."

"Yeah? What if I _really_ don't know?"

"You don't know what you were feeling at the time. But you can tell me how you feel about it now."

"Sorry."

"For what?"

"I didn't mean to snap at you."

"It's okay."

"I think I was...ashamed."

"What do you think you were you ashamed of?"

"..."

"You're doing so well, Greg. I really think we should keep going."

"It's hard to explain. I hate to sound...cliche. But my parents never really discussed puberty or sex with me. I just kind of woke up one day and had...man parts."

"And you thought there was something wrong with you?"

"I went to the library and read up on it."

"And that helped clear things up for you?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I still felt...wrong, in my own skin. One day I was a shrimp and the next I was over six feet tall with facial hair. It practically happened overnight. I didn't really have anyone I could talk to about...that stuff."

"So you were ashamed of your body, thus making having to expose it even more traumatic than it would normally have been."

"..."

"You told me once before that you were fifteen when your father stopped utilizing corporal punishment."

"Yeah."

"It must have been particularly humiliating to bare yourself after you'd reached puberty."

"..."

"How did you feel about that?"

"I hated him for it."

"Past tense?"

"..."

"You don't hate him anymore."

"I don't know."

"Tell me more about hating him."

"There's nothing to tell."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"..."

"Tell me about that hate. I care about why you hated him, even if you don't anymore. It matters. I want to hear it."

"I didn't hate him so much as I hated_ it_."

"It?"

"..."

"Ah."

"I don't think it's possible for anyone to hate a inanimate object as much as I hated that thing. I hated the sound of it, the smell of it. I used to fantasize about stealing it when he was sleeping and just...getting rid of it. I mean, I'm sure he could have found another one. I just..."

"Good. Keep going."

"That's...it. I'm done."

"No, you're not."

"It's terrible."

"You mean the things your father did to you?"

"No..."

"Then what's terrible?"

"_I_ am."

"Why are _you_ terrible?"

"..."

"You can tell me. I'm not going to hold it against you."

"You can't say that when you don't know what it is."

"So tell me what it is."

"I used to wish that he'd die."

"Mmm hmm. Tell me more about that."

"I'd...watch him boarding a plane or getting onto a Jeep and I'd be thinking _don't come back_."

"..."

"Remember you asked me if I've ever prayed?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's what I used to pray for. I knew of other kids whose dads had gone to war and been killed in combat. Hell, I knew this one kid whose dad had died during a simple training exercise. I'd go to church with my mom and I'd pray that he'd die...or that something would happen to him and he just wouldn't come home."

"And you feel bad about that."

"I don't know."

"Do you feel bad about it or not?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because...he worked hard. He put food on the table and a roof over my head. He...took care of us."

"I think those are very reasonable feelings for you to have, considering the circumstances. I don't think they make you a bad person at all. Just because he worked hard and did noble things, doesn't mean he wasn't capable of hurting you. People are not either all good or all evil."

"..."

"And I think you need to hear that."

"..."

"You were just a child, Greg. You were confused and isolated."

"..."

"You're fidgeting."

"That's because I'm anxious."

"That's to be expected."

"And yet you're calling attention to it. Take away my anti-anxiety meds and…surprise, I'm going to be anxious."

"…"

"Half a milligram isn't cutting it, doc. Especially not if you're going to expect me to talk about this shit."

"When did you take your last pill?"

"Four hours ago."

"So…another eight hours and you can have another half a milligram."

"God…"

"I know it's hard. The anxiety is just part of the withdrawal. Tuesday you'll be down to point five milligrams every twenty-four hours."

"…"

"You can do this."

"…"

"You don't need drugs to manage everything, Greg."

"..."

"That's why we're talking. I'm trying to teach you how to cope, without the drugs."

"You're the one who started me on the Ativan in the first place."

"I know and I take full responsibility for that. But it was never meant to be a long term solution."

"..."

"What's going on? You look upset."

"..."

"_Are_ you upset?"

"..."

"Just...yes or no. You're either upset or you're not."

"..."

"Talk to me."

"Remember when I told you that my mother...didn't know?"

"You mean, what your father was doing to you?"

"Yeah."

"..."

"There _is_ something that I haven't told you. But it's...I don't know. Maybe it's relevant. Maybe it's not."

"Only one way to find out."

"She didn't...I mean she wasn't aware of everything. She didn't know about _most_ things. But this one time when I was eight..."

"..."

"Sorry. This is really...sorry."

"That's okay. Take your time."

"She saw me coming out of the bathtub."

"I assume you were naked?"

"I had a towel wrapped around me. But I...let it fall on purpose."

"Why would you do that?"

"..."

"What did you want her to see?"

"I had...marks all over the backs of my thighs."

"That your father made?"

"Yeah."

"Why on the backs of your thighs?"

"..."

"You can't answer that?"

"..."

"Just take a second and think about it."

"I wouldn't hold still."

"You mean, for your dad?"

"I was throwing a tantrum, thrashing around. He was fairly determined to punish me. So he...just hit me wherever he could."

"How many times did he hit you?"

"It wasn't that many. No more than ten."

"Did your mother make any sort of comment about what she saw?"

"Not initially."

"Okay."

"She seemed indifferent at first. But I persisted. I tried to tell her...it wasn't right, that he'd hurt me. I actually cried, tried to appeal to her sympathy. I was sure that she'd feel sorry for me. I was sure that since she'd see the marks and she'd side with me. I was sure she'd take me and we'd leave and never have to see him again."

"What _did_ she do?"

"..."

"Keep going."

"..."

"What?"

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"..."

"You're having trouble breathing."

"..."

"Just relax, okay?"

"..."

"Put your head between your knees."

"I..._know..._what...to...do..."

"Then why aren't you doing it?"

"..."

"In through your nose and out through your mouth."

"..."

"Better?"

"No..."

"I'll just give you a minute then."

"Could...give...me...a...pill."

"I'm not going to do that, Greg. You can get through this without the drugs. Relax...pay attention to your breathing. It will pass."

"..."

"I'm going to touch you, okay?"

"Like...it matters what I...want."

"I'm asking your permission. Are you giving it or not?"

"Fine..."

"So what did your mother say?"

"I...can't."

"You can't tell me?"

"This...is...I...don't...know."

"They're just words, Greg."

"I...know...that."

"I'll just wait until you're ready."

"I'll...never...be..._ready_."

"Which is why you need to just say it and get it over with."

"She...told...me..._fuck_..."

"Take a few more deep breaths and then try again."

"..."

"If you tell me this, that'll be it. You can just tell me what happened and then we'll never have to talk about it again."

"..."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"..."

"She...told...me that it was my fault."

"What was?"

"She told me that I should have...held still, that I made it worse for myself. She said he did it because...because he loved me."

"And you're sure that she was aware of the severity of the punishment?"

"I...tried...to tell her. I...mean, she could _see_ what he'd done. Shit...shit. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize for being upset, Greg."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. You're entitled to be upset."

"..."

"He hit you hard enough to leave welts and your mother asserted that he'd done so out of love. That's a very confusing message to send a child."

"..."

"The fact of the matter is, he probably _was_ doing it out of love. He probably genuinely thought he was doing what was best for you. The problem is that it wasn't effective. It was emotionally harmful."

"..."

"Do you remember what you did to warrant being punished?"

"No."

"Did your father frequently leave marks on your body?"

"..."

"Okay. It's okay. Just take a few more deep breaths. We're not in a hurry."

"..."

"So did your father frequently leave marks on your body?"

"No."

"..."

"Sometimes he'd let it get out of hand. But it usually depended on how cooperative I was. The fact of the matter is, it only tended to be worse when I struggled. If I didn't stuggle, things would go more smoothly. But he seemed to think...it was justified. If he didn't leave any marks, it wasn't abuse. It was just...discipline. And if he did leave marks, well it was my fault for not being cooperative."

"He said this?"

"He would often allude to it."

"How?"

"Just...he'd tell me to stop crying, say I had no reason to cry, say that I had it coming to me."

"His assumption was that because he hadn't left any marks on you, then it couldn't possibly be painful enough to cry about. And the fact that you had earned your punishment meant that you had no right to begrudge it."

"..."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I just...dreaded him coming home."

"What do you mean by that?"

"He'd be gone for weeks or months. And my mom couldn't control me. So she wouldn't even try. She would just let me do whatever I wanted. But whenever he got back, the first thing my mother would do was give him a laundry list of all the naughty things I'd done during his absence. Usually that night, after dinner, he'd meet me in my room to discuss my misconduct. He'd tell me that him being gone was no excuse not to follow the rules."

"And he'd punish you."

"Yeah."

"How often would he come home to discover that you'd behaved badly?"

"Every time."

"So you knew that your dad coming home meant you'd definitely have to submit to corporal punishment of some sort."

"…"

"That sounds very stressful."

"It was."

"I'm pleased that you told me these things, Greg."

"..."

"Did you hear me?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm sorry I...lost it like that. I don't know what happened."

"I'm not sorry. You _should_ lose it. This is definitely something worth losing it over."

"If you say so."

"And the Ativan withdrawal doesn't help matters"

"..."

"How _do _you feel, now that you've shared this with me?"

"..."

"Do you feel even a little better?"

"I don't know."

"Would you tell me if you did?"

"Probably not."

"Okay then."

"Do we have to talk about this again?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"Good."


	34. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 23

_A fairly random session that focuses on nothing in particular. You know, just like in real life._

_The letter referenced here can be found in another fic entitled "Dear Gregory"_

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"You look upset, Greg."

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"..."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"..."

"Okay, _something_."

"..."

"I have to tell you something."

"Okay."

"Something I'd rather not tell you."

"Alright."

"Here..."

"What is this?"

"What does it look like?"

"Based on the shape I'd say...Xanax or some generic form?"

"..."

"Where did you get it?"

"They've been training a new nurse, Anna _something_. She was doling out meds today for the first time, unsupervised. She mistook me for another patient, because our names are sort of similar. She must not have looked at the picture for confirmation. And when I realized she was giving me the wrong meds…I didn't bother correcting her."

"I see."

"So…you might want to let them know, someone named Greg Hansen is missing his two milligrams of Xanax."

"But you didn't take it."

"I _did_ take it. It's right there."

"I mean, you didn't swallow it."

"I almost did."

"Almost?"

"..."

"How do you _almost_ swallow a pill?"

"I put in my mouth."

"But you didn't swallow it. Something stopped you. Something made you take it out again."

"..."

"Greg, this is very good."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is. You were confronted with an opportunity to use and you didn't. Instead you came to me and asked for help. That's good."

"It's pathetic."

"Why?"

"It just is."

"That's not a good enough reason."

"Because I wasn't motivated by the desire to do the right thing."

"Who the hell cares what you were motivated by?"

"..."

"So what do you think motivated you, if it wasn't a desire to do the right thing?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"Fear?"

"Fear of what?"

"Of failure...of being a complete and total loser."

"A loser according to whom?"

"..."

"You care what I think of you."

"Maybe a little bit."

"I'm flattered that you place that much value on my opinion. But Greg, you are _not_ a failure. And I have never thought so, even when you weren't succeeding at staying sober."

"..."

"And you _are_ succeeding now."

"Barely."

"Why does that matter?"

"..."

"You _almost_ slipped. But you didn't. You put it in your mouth. But you _didn't_ swallow it. That counts for something. The fact that you made the right choice counts for something."

"..."

"Why is it so hard for you to give yourself credit for strength of character?"

"Because it's bullshit."

"Clarify that for me."

"If not stealing another patient's pills constitutes success for me...that's pretty sad. Don't you think?"

"Is that the issue? You think your personal struggles are insignificant when compared to those of the vast majority?"

"..."

"Success is relative, Greg."

"I guess."

"You don't believe me."

"It's not a matter of belief."

"You think I have an agenda?"

"No."

"It sounds like maybe you do."

"I know you...care, in your own way."

"You don't think other people do?"

"I'm sure _some_ do. But most don't."

"What are you basing that on?"

"Experience."

"..."

"_This_ is not the real world."

"What does that mean?"

"..."

"Explain that to me, _this is not the real world_."

"When I'm here,_ everyone_ cares."

"You mean here in this hospital?"

"I mean...everyone here _wants_ to hear about my problems. Everyone here is either screwed up themselves or is devoted to helping people who are. The people that work here _have_ to care. It's their job. But in the real world…"

"You're assumption is that in the real world people don't care, because they have no reason to care. There's nothing in it for them."

"Exactly."

"I'm willing to bet that more people care than you think."

"..."

"You're afraid that when you leave again, things will change."

"No, I already _know_ they will."

"But that doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"Yes, it does."

"Why?"

"Because."

"_Because?"_

"It's stupid."

"I doubt it."

"I like who I am when I'm here."

"Good. I want you to like who you are."

"But I know that as soon as I go home again, I won't."

"Why not?"

"I just won't."

"You'll be the same person when you leave here, Greg. You're capable of the same things out there as you are in here."

"It's not the same."

"It _is_ the same. You're choosing to make it different."

"..."

"Just what do you think is so unlikable about you?"

"I called my mother last night."

"Are you deflecting? Because you could be a little less obvious."

"No. It's…actually relevant. At least I think it is."

"Okay. So you called your mother. Why would you do that?"

"It was my dad's birthday yesterday."

"I see. And that date was important to her?"

"Not particularly. I just thought it would be a good excuse to call."

"How old would he have been?"

"Seventy-five."

"What did the two of you talk about?"

"I started out with the pleasantries."

"Okay."

"Then I told her that I was here."

"You told her that you were institutionalized?"

"And I told her...what you and I talked about the other day."

"About her not protecting you from your father."

"Yes."

"How did she respond to that?"

"Not...quite the way I was expecting."

"How so?"

"Well, she cried. That part was expected."

"And what part wasn't expected?"

"She got angry."

"Really? That _is_...unexpected. What did she say?"

"That I had a lot of nerve dumping this on her _now,_ that I'm an adult and she refuses to accept blame for my problems, that she did the best she could...yadda yadda yadda."

"Really?"

"She started listing off all the ways I'd made her life difficult as a child. She said that my dad was a good dad and I was lucky that he cared enough to discipline me at all. She said that she couldn't do anything to control me and that I made her feel _powerless _in her own home. She said that there were times when she was afraid of me."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I don't know. I know I wasn't the most...some things she mentioned…I'd completely forgotten about."

"Well it _was_ a long time ago."

"She obviously didn't have any trouble remembering."

"She was an adult when those things happened. You were not."

"..."

"What sort of things did she mention?"

"Like…playing with fire, shoplifting, getting in trouble at school, embarrassing her by creating scenes in public places. I was suspended from the fourth grade for letting the air of the tires on my teacher's car."

"Why did you do that?"

"I don't even remember. I'm sure my reason was lame."

"So you were a difficult child. So what? We've established that already."

"Apparently more difficult than I thought."

"And you think that makes it's okay to mistreat you, to emotionally neglect you?"

"_She_ seems to."

"I disagree. And I'm willing to bet she doesn't really think so either. You weren't well behaved, and I imagine you made her life very difficult. But all kids are difficult. I think that a good portion of your behavior was a response to the environment you were living in."

"Well, don't tell her that."

"First of all, you took her by surprise. So she had no choice but to react emotionally. Learning that her son is a patient in a mental hospital was probably enough of a shock, all by itself. Bear in mind that her perspective on the matter is unique, just like yours. She was the adult and you were the child."

"..."

"The details are irrelevant. What matters now is how you felt. She can't acknowledge your pain, because that would mean admitting that she may have failed somehow. She can't bring herself to accept the possibility that you might have been traumatized, because that means she let it happen. She failed to control you, failed to protect you. And if she's as far in denial as you say, it would make sense that she'd be reluctant to accept any sort of blame for anything, even that for which she is directly responsible."

"..."

"So how do you feel about what she said?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"Angry…frustrated."

"Good. Now we have to go from you being angry and frustrated, to you finding a way to communicate those feelings to your mother."

"Tried that already."

"It doesn't sound like it."

"I told her how I felt."

"What did you say?"

"..."

"I'll be her. You be you. Tell me what you said."

"This is lame."

"No, it's not."

"..."

"I want you to be able to talk about your feelings. This is your mother, the woman who gave birth to you and raised you. You should be able to say _you hurt me_. You should be able to say _I'm angry_."

"Yeah."

"I think you should call her back and find a more efficient way to communicate your feelings."

"She's going to be on the defensive."

"And that's understandable."

"..."

"How_ do_ you feel about the things your mother mentioned?"

"I know the things I did were...wrong."

"But you still resent being disciplined."

"Yeah."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know. I guess, my dad had every right to punish me, at least for some things."

"But the way he did it was obviously counter-productive."

"..."

"So you don't resent being disciplined. You simply resent the manner in which it was done."

"It wasn't what he did, so much as what he said. I mean, the physical stuff...I got over it pretty quick. But the verbal stuff...it sticks with you, you know?"

"What kind of things would he say?"

"He had an arsenal of phrases, most of which I grew to hate."

"Like what?"

"..."

"Just name one."

"He used to say I was getting too _big for my britches_. He'd say...I was acting _high and mighty_. He'd say I needed to come down off _my high horse_. God I hated those phases. I still do."

"What else?"

"He'd tell me I was _just asking for a trouble. _He'd say that me and his belt needed to _have a conversation_."

"I think most people resent being disciplined, to some extent."

"..."

"Would you dad frequently threaten you with corporal punishment?"

"Yes."

"Did he ever do this in front of anyone else?"

"Like who?"

"Like anyone."

"He did it in front of my mother. But he never threatened me in public or in front of my peers."

"Did he always make good on his threats?"

"Not always."

"Still, that must have been embarrassing."

"..."

"How would you feel when he would make such threats?"

"I would get this feeling...like nausea, this uneasy queasiness."

"So this affected you so strongly that it manifested itself as a physical symptom."

"I guess."

"I think it's safe to say that this particular experience has had long term effects. It's stunted your emotional growth and resulted in a number of irrational fears."

"..."

"We've established that you have a fear of abandonment. At what point in your life do think that began?"

"I don't know, birth?"

"You felt abandoned as an infant? Most people can't remember back that far."

"I didn't mean literally."

"Figuratively then. You felt figuratively abandoned as a young child."

"I felt _unsupported_ as a young child."

"Which is akin to abandonment. It's emotional abandonment, which is just as significant as physical abandonment."

"..."

"In what ways did you specifically feel _unsupported_?"

"I told you. My mother…never made an effort to smooth things over between my father and I. And I feel like she could have done more in that department."

"How so? What do you think she should have been doing?"

"She would actually encourage conflict. She'd refuse to take a stand, or she'd just pretend that it didn't exist."

"So you felt abandoned by your mother, because she refused to advocate for you."

"Yes. But in all fairness, she never advocated for herself either."

"Do you think you might be ready to tell _her_ that?"

"I tried."

"Think you might be able to try again?"

"Maybe."

"So getting back to my initial question, just what is it about you that you think is so terrible?"

"I don't know."

"But you've decided that you're just completely unlikable."

"The world's decided that."

"I don't think so."

"..."

"I think that you assume people will dislike you and project that negativity onto them. That way they are sure to fulfill your expectations. I think you avoid making any sort of effort to be liked, because you're afraid it will be in vain."

"That's because it usually is."

"And I've noticed that you tend to behave very differently towards people who appear to like you from the start."

"Like who?"

"Alvie, for instance...and some of the other patients here. Once you've realize the other party likes you, you have no reason to be abrasive. You're willing to let your guard down and be yourself. But when you realize someone doesn't like you, you're immediately defensive, caustic."

"I told you, this isn't the real world."

"So it doesn't count? The relationships you build here aren't real? You think the only reason people here like you is because they're crazy?"

"That...and it's just not the same. Everyone in here is a misfit of sorts. I'm sure most of them are hurting for friends. That makes them much less likely to pass judgment on others."

"Beggars can't be choosers?"

"Something like that."

"Greg...we're all misfits, every last one of us."

"But some of us more than others."

"I honestly think that at least some of your inability to socialize with others is self imposed. A long time ago, someone told you that you weren't normal and you've been operating on that belief ever since."

"..."

"I want you to try approaching life from an opposite perspective. Don't worry about what other people think you are. Start thinking of yourself as a great guy. Stop viewing yourself as some kind of burden, as something to be tolerated. You are not evil. You are a human being, and a very exceptional one at that. If people don't want anything to do with you, then they are missing out."

"I'm not a great guy."

"Well I think you are."

"..."

"And I wouldn't lie to you, Greg. I wouldn't lie just to make you feel better."

"..."

"That bothers you, me telling you that."

"You're my therapist."

"So my opinion doesn't count?"

"It counts."

"Just not as much as everyone else's? I'm your shrink, therefore I have to like you, right?"

"..."

"Greg, I have disliked many of my patients. I have downright hated a few of them. But you...I look forward to the time we spend together. I enjoy talking with you."

"..."

"You have no response for that?"

"Nope."

"I really would like you to acknowledge what I just said."

"Yeah, great. So you like me. Good to know."

"Why is that so hard for you to accept?"

"..."

"Other people like you too."

"No, they don't."

"They do, Greg. And the ones that don't, don't matter."

"..."

"Hmm...We've got another thirty minutes. I think we should talk about the letter your father wrote you."

"Wonderful."

"You knew I was planning to address it at some point. And I think it's relevant to this discussion."

"..."

"You told me that you went to the funeral…against your will. You told me that you were drugged and kidnapped. But you haven't been very forthcoming with the details of the event itself."

"That's because there are no details."

"I'm sure that's not true."

"I woke up and we were halfway there already. We argued for the remainder of the journey. We stayed at the funeral for all of fifteen minutes and then we bolted."

"Hmm."

"_Hmm?_ You think I'm lying?"

"No. I just think you're not being completely truthful."

"..."

"James told me you had him arrested."

"…"

"Is that true?"

"He was driving. So technically, he got himself arrested."

"You pressed your cane down on the gas pedal, in the presence of a police officer."

"Allegedly."

"Did you know there was a warrant out for his arrest?"

"Nope."

"..."

"I mean I did know. I just thought he'd cleared it up years ago."

"..."

"He got off easy. I could have done much worse."

"You _could_ have been seriously injured...both of you."

"That was the least of my concerns."

"I think it's _always_ the least of your concerns."

"…"

"What_ are_ your concerns, by the way?"

"My Fantasy Football stats, the going price of a topless lap dance."

"…"

"So you don't care about anything? I don't believe that."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want to know why you had James arrested."

"I didn't want to go to the funeral. I told him that. I told my _mother_ that. I even told him why. He didn't listen. Ergo, I had to take matters into my own hands. Or cane, as it were."

"So how did you think that getting arrested would solve that problem?"

"I figured if we were delayed enough, my mom would just go ahead and start the funeral without me."

"Did she?"

"No."

"And that surprises you."

"My dad was a very punctual man. He was…never late for anything. He was probably even born early. Postponing his funeral would have been...disrespectful."

"You've told me several times before that your dad placed a lot of value on punctuality."

"So?"

"So is that pride I detect?"

"No. It's annoyance."

"I don't think so."

"..."

"I think there's a part of you that's proud to be his son."

"Yeah, except I'm not."

"Not proud?"

"No, I'm not his son."

"He says here in this letter that you are."

"You read it?"

"You said I could."

"..."

"You didn't read it, _did_ you?"

"I skimmed it."

"So tell me how you feel about that."

"About what?"

"Him saying that he regards you as his son, regardless of your not being his biological offspring."

"I don't know."

"But you do feel something?"

"How can I not?"

"But you can't tell me what it is."

"..."

"Maybe you're still processing."

"…"

"Your father also basically stated that he understood why you didn't want to see him, why you wouldn't answer his calls."

"Yep."

"And it seems like that bothers you as well."

"…"

"Perhaps you were hoping that by ignoring him, by refusing to make peace with him, you would cause him some degree of emotional injury."

"Perhaps."

"I'm guessing that it probably did, to some extent. He said he understood. But he also said he was disappointed."

"He was always _disappointed_."

"In you?"

"..."

"I don't glean that sort of disappointment from this letter. I don't see someone trying to communicate disappointment in their child. I see someone acknowledging fault and attempting to make peace."

"…"

"I don't think he's a better person than you are for sending it though."

"…"

"I think that's what's bothering you now. You feel like he did the right thing. He tried to make peace and you didn't. You're used to viewing him as the bad guy and now you can't and you're wondering where that leaves you. You're wondering if maybe you're the bad guy."

"…"

"There are no good guys and bad guys, Greg. There are decent people who do terrible things and terrible people who do decent things. Life is not as simple as good versus evil."

"..."

"When did you receive this letter?"

"My mom gave it to me at the funeral."

"That was well over a year ago."

"Yeah."

"Why did you wait so long to open it?"

"I wasn't planning on opening it at all."

"And yet you held onto it."

"So?"

"So you must have been planning to open it at some point."

"Not necessarily."

"Why _did_ you open it?"

"I didn't. Wilson found it in my sock drawer. He figured out what it was. He opened it and read it. He harassed me about it on the phone. I told him to leave it alone. Eventually he brought it here and started reading it to me out loud."

"Why did he do that?"

"He said I _needed to hear it_."

"And you listened?"

"No."

"But you eventually got it away from him and read it yourself."

"Like I said, I skimmed it."

"Perhaps your curiosity got the better of you."

"..."

"How do you feel about what you _did_ read?"

"…"

"James said that when he attempted to read you the letter, you refused to talk to him, that you locked yourself in the handicapped stall of the bathroom."

"..."

"So…why did you lock yourself in the bathroom?"

"What do people _usually_ do in the bathroom?"

"..."

"I wanted to be alone."

"Why did you want to be alone?"

"…"

"You don't like people watching you cry, do you?"

"…"

"Not even the people who love you."

"..."

"Why not?"

"I wasn't crying."

"It's okay if you were."

"..."

"What do you think would happen if you cried in front of James?"

"What do you want me to say...the world would crack open and we'd all fall in?"

"I don't know. Is that what you think would happen?"

"He doesn't need to see that."

"I would have to disagree. I think he _should_ see it. I think he of all people, needs to be reminded of your humanity."

"..."

"So let's talk about this letter. How much of it did you read?"

"..."

"Your dad said he loved you, that he was happy with the way you turned out. I can't imagine that wouldn't elicit some sort of a response."

"It probably should."

"But it doesn't."

"There was a time when I would have killed to hear that from him. But now...I don't know. It doesn't mean much."

"Why do you think that is?"

"..."

"You think he's being ingenuine?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't consider it to be impossible, just highly unlikely."

"And you're upset about this."

"No..."

"You seem upset to me."

"He had no right to open that letter."

"You mean James?"

"Yes."

"You're right. He didn't. But he already did it. It's already done, Greg. You can't change it. You can only go forward."

"..."

"You never wanted to read it. But you did. And now that you have...I think it's important that we discuss how you feel about it. Because I couldn't imagine you reading this letter and not hurting or being confused."

"I just don't get it."

"What don't you get?"

"Why couldn't he have said these things while he was still alive? How hard would it have been?"

"It sounds like he tried to."

"Not until the end. Not until it was too late."

"Yeah."

"..."

"Maybe that's the problem. You don't like being wrong. And for once, you were wrong about your dad. He really did want to make peace with you. You regret not giving him that chance."

"I don't regret it."

"I don't believe you."

"I just mean, I would rather be safe than sorry. I didn't want to risk being sorry."

"I see. So it was worth it to you to sacrifice that potential reconciliation, just to avoid the possibility of rejection."

"Yes."

"So let's talk more about the funeral."

"..."

"I know you don't want to talk about it. But I really think we should."

"..."

"How did you go about procuring a sample of your father's DNA?"

"I got a skin specimen."

"So it was an open casket funeral?"

"..."

"That must have been very awkward."

"Tell me about it."

"Didn't anyone notice what you were doing?"

"I had my back to them."

"But they must have seen you reach into the casket."

"I uh, gave my dad a quick peck on the cheek."

"Really? Why?"

"It gave me an excuse to reach into the casket."

"And that's all?"

"..."

"Perhaps you were also saying _goodbye_."

"..."

"When was the last time you'd kissed your father, prior to that?"

"I don't know."

"Estimate. How old were you?"

"Let's see...probably around nineteen sixty-eight."

"So you were what, nine?"

"Yeah."

"How were you feeling at that moment?"

"In nineteen sixty-eight?"

"No, when you were reaching into the casket."

"..."

"You must have been terrified."

"My heart was beating so fast, I actually thought everyone could hear it."

"So you were scared."

"Yeah."

"It's good that you can acknowledge that."

"This is going to sound crazy. But it was like...I kept thinking that any minute, he was going to open his eyes."

"That's not crazy at all. It's actually a fairly reasonable fear."

"..."

"So how would you feel about maybe reading the rest of that letter?"

"I don't know."

"Would you like me to read it to you?"

"No. I just...I don't know. I don't want to read it. I mean, do I have to read it? What's that going to accomplish?"

"You don't _have _to read it, Greg. But I've read it. And I honestly think if you choose to do the same, you will be glad you did."

"..."

"Hurts, doesn't?"

"What?"

"You know that there's a chance that he was being genuine. You know that it's possible that he'd felt this way for a long time. You're angry because he never thought it was important enough to tell you."

"He didn't always feel this way."

"But you don't know that for sure."

"I _do_ know that. Those words...they don't match up with the experience, trust me. Maybe for him they do. But for me, they're not even close."

"Perhaps he may have begun to feel this way after you moved out and went to college."

"Yeah, it's easier to be tolerant of someone when they're not around."

"You think he tolerated you?"

"More or less."

"What are you basing that on?"

"Just...he never visited me."

"When?"

"_Ever._ He and my mother dropped by my office once, three years ago. They were on their way to Paris and had a layover in Newark. I think that was the only time either of them have set foot in a hospital where I worked."

"And that's the only time in your adult life that your father came to visit you?"

"He came to my college graduation. He bitched the entire time. We were supposed to go out to dinner, but he ended up leaving early."

"Why did he leave early?"

"We were arguing."

"About what?"

"He didn't seem to think I was making the right choice by going to medical school."

"How did he express that particular view?"

"He said I'd make a lousy doctor."

"What do you think he was basing that on?"

"I wish I knew."

"But surely he must have acknowledged that he was wrong at some point."

"..."

"Right?"

"My father never expressed any opinions about my career choice or my ability to practice medicine, not after that point."

"So he refrained from saying anything disparaging, which is good. But he also neglected to support you, which is not so good."

"..."

"What about your mother?"

"What about her?"

"Has she expressed any opinions about your career choices?"

"She's the complete opposite of my dad."

"How so?"

"I could have gotten a job greeting people at Walmart and she would probably have been proud."

"You think her approval is too easy to obtain, therefore it's meaningless."

"..."

"Instead you focus on the approval you _couldn't_ get, your father's."

"..."

"Did you visit your parents at all, once you'd gone away to school?"

"Yeah. Maybe...ten times."

"During your adult life, you only visited your parents ten times?"

"Is it that hard to believe?"

"What about phone calls? How often would you converse with your parents on the telephone?"

"My mom usually calls every three or four months."

"What about your dad?"

"He never called. I called him once. I actually called my mother. But he picked up. We chatted for a few minutes, before he went and got my mom. It was like talking to a stranger."

"So what you're saying is...you think that what your father expressed in the letter he sent you was a fairly recent development."

"..."

"How recent?"

"Probably when he found out he was dying."

"So you think he only began to care, when he realized that his days were numbered."

"Yeah."

"I'm curious as to why you think that diminishes the value of his intentions."

"..."

"Greg...if you want to have any chance at moving past this, you're going to have to find a way to forgive. It's like you're trying to swim while holding onto a huge boulder. You're going to sink unless you learn to let go of it."

"..."

"I know you stated in the letter that you wrote him, that you forgave him for all the things he did. Was that premature?"

"No."

"It wasn't."

"It's...easy to write it."

"So you didn't mean it."

"I meant it at the moment that I was writing it."

"So you're still struggling with this."

"..."

"Which is why I think it would be in your best interest to seek closure with your mother. You need to request an apology."

"..."

"And you should be prepared to apologize also."

"For what?"

"For anything you might have done to make her life difficult."

"I was a kid. It's not like I was consciously trying to torment her."

"I know it. You were a kid, and it wasn't your fault. But that doesn't mean it didn't affect her. I think if you acknowledge your own mistakes, she will be more willing to follow suit."

"..."

"Refrain from accusations or blame. Stick to talking about how you feel. Use _I _statements, not _you_ statements. For instance, you wouldn't say _you made me feel this when you did this_. Instead say..._this is how I felt when this happened_. Own your feelings. Take responsibility for them. She will be much more likely to furnish you with an apology if she doesn't feel persecuted."

"I don't know."

"Why don't you do this...why don't you sit down and write everything out, exactly what you want to say. Then when you call her, you can just read it."

"..."

"And if you want, you can show it to me first and we can discuss any revisions that might make the message more effective."

"..."

"Will you at least think about it?"

"Yeah...I mean, I want to do it. I just don't know what to say."

"Start by making a list of your grievances. For each grievance, describe how it made you feel. Then you and I can figure out how to rephrase that information, so it doesn't sound like you're accusing her of anything."

"Sounds complicated."

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes, I guess."

"Good."


	35. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 24

_This reason for this chapter will make more sense when you read the one that comes after it._

_I'm not the type to ask for reviews. But this has been getting massive page-hits, like more than anything else I've written. So if you've been reading it all this time and haven't commented, I'd appreciate it if you'd do so, just once, even if it's just to let me know that you're reading. I'm always curious about what people think. Thank you._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"I heard about what happened in your group this morning."

"..."

"You didn't think I would?"

"I was hoping it would take at least six hours to get back to you."

"But you knew you'd have to discuss it eventually."

"I was okay with _eventually_."

"So what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Why do you always say that?"

"Because it's true."

"Threatening to assault another patient isn't _nothing_."

"…"

"Especially a female patient."

"I didn't _threaten_ her."

"Dr. Patel said you did."

"I told her that she was lucky she was a woman, because I _would_ have hit her otherwise. That's not a threat. It's an evasion."

"It definitely sounds like a threat."

"…"

"I can't have you threatening the other patients, Greg."

"..."

"Okay?"

"Fine. I'll never do it again."

"Really."

"..."

"So what exactly did she say to set you off?"

"I assumed Dr. Patel would have filled you in."

"I'd like to hear it from you."

"..."

"She said that Sara was attempting to share with the group about her son and that you continually interrupted her and then you eventually picked a fight and had to be asked to leave the group and go back to your room."

"…"

"You're not an ordinarily violent person, and you don't tend to do things without a reason. So I'm sure there's way more to it than that."

"I'm sure there is."

"Care to shed some light?"

"Sara is a recovering alcoholic. She has two kids. One of them is a twelve year old boy with a conduct disorder."

"Okay."

"She was regaling us with the tale of how her husband, who is _also_ a recovering alcoholic with serious anger management issues...and a U.S. Marine, go figure, accidentally dislocated their son's arm, while in the process of _disciplining_ him for flushing his sister's Bakugan down the toilet."

"What's a Bakugan?"

"I have no idea. But it's apparently way more important than their son's physical well being."

"I see. And she used the word _disciplining_ to describe that ordeal?"

"Yes."

"I think it's clear why that would bother you. But why would you specifically react so violently?"

"I don't know."

"Speculate."

"It was the way she said it."

"How did she say it?"

"She didn't even sound sorry."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...the kid's arm got torn out of its socket and all she could do was go on about what a brat he was and how he had made her life a living hell, how he was the reason she started drinking to begin with. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she thought it was justified."

"And you obviously don't."

"No, I don't."

"Did you tell her that?"

"In a...roundabout way."

"Dr. Patel said you upset Sara quite a bit."

"Yeah? Well, she upset me."

"Really?"

"Relatively speaking."

"I'm pleased that you're willing to admit to being upset by something, or that you'd admit to being upset at all."

"..."

"So...we've established what she said to upset _you_. What did you say to upset her?"

"I already told you, that she was lucky she was a woman, because otherwise I would have clocked her one."

"Have you ever hit a woman, Greg?"

"I'm sure I did, in elementary school."

"But not as an adult."

"Not really."

"Not really?"

"I spanked my girlfriend once. I'm not sure if that counts though."

"Interesting. Why did you do that?"

"She asked me to."

"So it was a sex thing."

"For lack of a better term."

"Did you frequently engage in such activities?"

"No, it was just the one time."

"What did you spank her with?"

"My hand."

"Well...that couldn't have been _all _you said to Sara."

"The rest is a bit of a blur."

"It was just this morning."

"Selective amnesia and all that."

"Maybe you're ashamed of what you said."

"Or maybe I just don't feel like discussing it any further"

"Dr. Patel said you told Sara that her son was illegitimate and the product of infidelity."

"…"

"And you implied that her husband's desire to physically harm their son was a result of the fact that he knew he was raising someone else's child."

"..."

"Do you really have a reason to believe that or were you just projecting?"

"Why can't it be both?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

"It fits."

"How does it fit?"

"Sara shared a few weeks ago that he had an affair while her husband was stationed in Saudi Arabia."

"And you have reason to believe that she conceived her son then?"

"I did the math. He's about the right age."

"You still have no way of knowing that for sure."

"..."

"I can see why this incident is hitting particularly close to home for you. But the severity of your reaction makes me think that you have some issues which still need resolution."

"…"

"Where do you stand on the issue of corporal punishment?"

"You think dislocating a kid's arm qualifies as corporal punishment?"

"Is that what I said?"

"No..."

"You're either for it or against it. You've never actually said one way or the other. Your answer will help me figure out which direction to take this conversation."

"I don't know. There are definitely some kids out there who could use a good beating. I just think...there are other ways to control people besides inflicting pain and instilling fear. I think it should be an absolute last resort, the exception and not the rule."

" So you're okay with it, as long as it's in moderation."

"Not _okay _with it."

"Are you against it or not?"

"I can't say."

"Why not?"

"Because...I could_ say_ that I was against it. But I have no idea what would happen if I actually became a parent."

"So you're saying you don't feel comfortable taking a stance on something that isn't really relevant to your life."

"Exactly."

"Well, the parallels here are fairly clear. I can definitely see why you'd be upset by what this woman was sharing. But I'm concerned about the degree to which you were affected."

"I'm fine with it. I was pissed. Now I'm not."

"I'm...not sure I believe that."

"..."

"Are there issues we still need to discuss?"

"..."

"You're supposed to be going home in nine days."

"So?"

"So...are you going to be _ready_ to go home in nine days?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You tell me."

"I'll still be seeing you once a week. If there's something we need to discuss, we can do it then."

"True."

"..."

"How are you feeling right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean physically."

"Um...fine?"

"Are you in pain?"

"No more than usual."

"Where would you say you were on the pain scale?"

"Four maybe...sometimes five."

"That's the maximum?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any concerns regarding your health?"

"No."

"The reason I ask is...you don't look well, Greg."

"..."

"I won't beat around the bush here, because I've found that with you the direct approach is best. I'm concerned."

"About what?"

"For starters, I was looking at your chart. You've lost twelve and a half pounds in the last seven weeks."

"So?"

"So...I'm concerned about that."

"Loss of appetite could be a side effect of going off the Ativan."

"That's…not really definitive."

"..."

"If you'd gained weight on the Ativan, that would be a good argument. But you're twelve pounds lighter than you were when you were admitted back in May. According to your file, this is the least you've weighed in ten years."

"Maybe I'm just not eating as much. I just turned fifty. People's appetites tend to decrease with age."

"If you were sixty, I might buy that as an excuse."

"..."

"And it was my understanding that you loved to eat."

"The food here isn't exactly five star cuisine."

"You were eating it with no trouble before."

"..."

"Greg, I'm not sure how to say this. So I'm just going to come right out with it. Two of the people in your ward have told me that they've observed you vomiting after meals."

"..."

"Why are you rolling your eyes?"

"Nausea isn't an uncommon side effect of drug and alcohol detox."

"Sure…in the first or second week. It's been almost eight weeks since you were admitted."

"I told you, the food here isn't the greatest."

"So you expect me to believe that you're vomiting because the food is just _that_ bad."

"…"

"Are you bulimic?"

"Are you serious? Please tell me you're not serious."

"I'm serious."

"Then, no. I'm not."

"Would you tell me if you were?"

"Yes, I would. It would be pretty hard to hide something like that, especially with a dozen nurses and orderlies breathing down my neck."

"I think…and please don't be insulted by this. It's merely speculative. But I think it's remotely possible that you could be looking for another vice to replace your drug addiction."

"Oh brother."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong, _dead _wrong, wrong to the hundredth power with an extra large side order of _wrong_."

"Am I?"

"..."

"So it's just a coincidence."

"I…got sick after eating. It's not a crime."

"I never said it was a crime. But as a doctor, I'm sure you're familiar with all the health risks to purging your food."

"I'm not _purging_. It's not…intentional. It's just…I eat and sometimes it comes back up."

"You're absolutely sure."

"I think I'd know if it was intentional. I mean, trust me. I know how to make myself throw up."

"…"

"Okay, that was the wrong thing to say. But my point is still valid."

"Does this happen every time you eat?"

"Not _every_ time."

"But _most _of the time."

"No."

"What percentage of the time?"

"I don't know...twenty five?"

"You throw up a quarter of what you eat?"

"Is there an echo in here?"

"And how long has this been going on?"

"Not long…maybe nine or ten days."

"Are you experiencing any other symptoms?"

"It's not a _symptom_."

"I'm pretty sure it is."

"..."

"So _are_ you experiencing any other symptoms?"

"Don't you think I'd have already told you if I were?"

"I don't know. You didn't tell me about this."

"Because I didn't see the point."

"You don't think it's a cause for concern."

"I figured it was an infection or a virus. Hospitals are teeming with bacteria."

"Most hospital borne infections don't include nausea or vomiting as a symptom."

"So...it's a resistant strain, amoebiasis."

"That's...highly unlikely, unless you're in the habit of not washing your hands after you use the toilet. Seems like unusual behavior for a seasoned physician."

"Maybe I'm pregnant."

"I think we both know the problem behind that theory."

"Could be acid reflux or GERD. Not uncommon in men my age."

"If it _were_ an infection, then you could take antibiotics."

"So?"

"So...you'd want to bring that to my attention, so we could get you a script."

"Not necessarily."

"I want to get full bloodwork done before you're discharged, urinalysis, fecal smear, complete physical."

"Why, because I'm nauseated?"

"Throwing up after a meal isn't normal."

"Hey, that depends on what you ate."

"Maybe you don't _want_ to know the cause."

"Because I _already_ know the cause."

"But you can't be one hundred percent sure."

"Neither can you."

"Why are you so afraid of this?"

"I'm not _afraid_."

"Then why resist?"

"Wait a few more days and it will pass."

"What if it doesn't?"

"..."

"And you're not even the least bit curious?"

"I've been nauseated and vomiting off and on for a little over a week. It's not a crisis."

"Are you hearing yourself?"

"..."

"If this were your patient, you'd probably be running all kinds of tests. You'd probably have misdiagnosed them with at least ten rare illnesses by now."

"It's _not a crisis_."

"It is if you're anemic or dehydrated. Your blood pressure is up, and your skin is sallow, both of which suggest some sort of pathology."

"I'm drinking plenty of water."

"And is any of that coming back up?"

"..."

"I still want to do the bloodwork."

"What happens when the results are inconclusive?"

"You really think they will be?"

"I _know_ they will be."

"I'm worried about you, Greg. If you don't have anything to hide, there's no reason for you to say _no_."

"I _don't_ have anything to hide."

"So you've said that you know how to make yourself throw up. When have you felt compelled to do that?"

"…"

"You can't make a statement like that and expect me to not inquire further."

"Fine. Because I don't have anything to hide."

"All the more reason you should have no trouble answering."

"A few times I've...overdone it with the Vicodin."

"So you made yourself throw up, in order to avoid a lethal overdose."

"..."

"How many times have you done that?"

"Not many. Certainly not enough to substantiate an _eating disorder_."

"Right."

"..."

"Okay. I'm sorry I accused you of being bulimic."

"..."

"I shouldn't have jumped directly to that conclusion."

"Thank you."

"But I still want you to get a complete physical."

"Why?"

"According to your chart, you haven't had one in almost eleven years."

"I'm sure there's a reason for that."

"So, now's the time. A man your age should -at the very least- have annual GU exams."

"..."

"If nothing else, it will help us to rule out a few things."

"Like bulimia?"

"That's not what I said."

"But it's what you meant."

"Are you going to submit to the physical or not?"

"Sure. If that will make you happy, I don't care. Poke and prod me until your heart's content."

"Good. I'll set that up for tomorrow."

"..."

"Have you had a chance to read that letter from your father yet?"

"I already told you, I skimmed it."

"But have you even glanced at it since we spoke about it last week?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"..."

"Do you_ ever_ plan to read it?"

"I don't know...maybe."

"What's stopping you?"

"Disinterest?"

"Somehow I doubt that _interest_ is the problem."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I was curious how you would respond."

"..."

"I think you're afraid."

"I'm not _afraid_."

"I think you want to stay angry with your father and you know that if you read that letter, you won't be able to. You might even sympathize with him. Then you'll have to confront how much you love him and how much you miss him. It's easier to just keep hating though, isn't it?"

"..."

"What about your mom?"

"What about her?"

"Have you called her back yet?"

"Nope."

"Are you planning to?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Same reason."

"Disinterest?"

"..."

"Have you at least written down what you'd like to say to her?"

"Haven't done that either."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not planning on saying it."

"That doesn't mean it might not help you to write it down."

"..."

"Why aren't you planning on saying it?"

"Because...if I say what I really want to say to her…it's only going to make her cry."

"I see. And you don't want to make her cry."

"Yes."

"Yes, you do or yes, you don't?"

"I don't. I mean, I don't _want_ to make her cry. But...she will. She _should_ cry."

"Why?"

"She deserves to cry."

"And yet, for some reason, you're reluctant to be the one to make that happen. Why?"

"…"

"You're hardly one I'd expect to find touting the _if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all_ principle."

"..."

"Perhaps you could write down what you want to say and I could help you figure out a way to rephrase it that _won't_ make her cry."

"I don't think that's even possible."

"So you obviously care about her to some degree, if you're unwilling to do something that you know might cause her pain. You say she deserves to cry. But then you're unwilling to be the one to facilitate that."

"I don't care, actually. I just...don't want to deal with it. She's going to freak out. And when she freaks out, her pain will become my pain."

"So this is just...self interest. You want to have the luxury of being able to say what you need to say, without having to worry about her reacting emotionally."

"Yes."

"..."

"And that's clearly not going to happen anyway. It doesn't really matter _how_ I phrase it. So why bother?"

"You think the solution is to just not say it at all. To just shut your mouth and keep your feelings to yourself."

"…"

"We've established that your mother is fairly oblivious to the way you feel about...probably most things. But I think your continued reluctance to speak your mind and communicate your needs may have actually contributed to that. In fact, I think the same could be said of almost all your interpersonal relationships."

"…"

"What I mean is...thirty, forty years have gone by and you've refrained from telling your mother what you _really_ think about her, what you think of your father, what you think about the quality of her parenting skills. So the longer she goes unaware of the truth, the greater shock it will be when and if you finally do gather the nerve to vocalize your concerns."

"It's not about…nerve."

"What's it about then?"

"It's just…it wouldn't change anything. It's not like there's anything she could do about it. The damage is already done. All it would do is upset her."

"And you don't want to emotionally upset her."

"I already told you, her pain_ becomes_ my pain."

"You do realize that you are, in essence, placing the importance of her feelings above your own. You're basically sacrificing your own emotional health in favor of hers. Why would you do that?"

"..."

"I think she has successfully emotionally manipulated you, and probably has been doing so for some time."

"Tell me about it."

"You mentioned to me before that when you notified your mother that you did not wish to deliver your father's eulogy, she basically reacted by sticking her head in the sand."

"So?"

"So for her, avoidance is a coping mechanism. Pretending that her issues don't exist is how she gets through the day. It probably always has been. The problem is, by refusing to assert yourself, you're enabling that avoidance and perpetuating that dynamic."

"It doesn't matter what I say to her."

"If the degree to which she's in denial is any indication, I think it matters a lot."

"I just mean, it's not like she would be willing to actually apologize for anything."

"Why not?"

"Because she doesn't think she did anything wrong."

"Then maybe you should tell her what she's done wrong, so she can know."

"At which point she will deny it and then cry. She's going to play the victim, call me ungrateful, possibly even hang up before I get a chance to say everything I need to say. It's not worth the energy."

"Is that what you need, an apology?"

"I don't need it. But it would certainly be nice."

"Would you be willing to share with me what it is that you want to tell her?"

"..."

"I'm curious what it is that you think is going to be so upsetting."

"..."

"You can't tell me?"

"It's not that I _can't_."

"..."

"You said I didn't have to talk about it again."

"I did?"

"..."

"You're...referring to the incident with you getting out of the bathtub and dropping the towel?"

"..."

"Right...so you don't have to go into intimate detail. Just give me a general idea of what you want to say."

"..."

"Do you want to confront her about her reaction to that incident? Or more specifically, her _lack _of a reaction."

"I used to want to know why."

"Why what?"

"..."

"Why she didn't protect you or intervene on your behalf?"

"..."

"And you don't want to know why anymore?"

"I don't_ care_ why anymore. _Why_ is irrelevant."

"..."

"But I resent her. And I think she should know it."

"So why don't you just tell her that?"

"I already told you why."

"You don't want to make her cry."

"She has a persecution complex. If I complain about something, she's a _terrible_ mother. She isn't worthy of having such a wonderful son. In lieu of an apology she will theatrically beg for my forgiveness, in an attempt to make me feel guilty for daring to complain in the first place."

"I thought you said she doesn't think she's done anything wrong."

"She doesn't."

"So you don't think she's being sincere?"

"I think she's...passive aggressive."

"You think her goal is to make you feel guilty for being dissatisfied with her in some way."

"..."

"Sounds like it's working."

"..."

"I'm curious about something."

"..."

"Why did you feel compelled to point out to Sara that her husband's behavior was abusive?"

"She appeared to be oblivious."

"But you must have known she would react emotionally."

"Yeah."

"So you told her that anyway, even though you knew it might make her cry. Why?"

"What can I say? I'm an ass."

"I don't think that applies here. You had a motive. What was it?"

"No motive. I just...she needed to hear it."

"So why can't you apply that same principle to your mother?"

"Because she's my mother. It's not the same thing."

"I think you should tell your mother whatever it is that you want her to know. Forget about offending her or hurting her feelings. She has no problem with disregarding _yours._ What you have to say to her is important and relevant and how she chooses to react is her own choice."

"It's not worth it."

"It _is_ worth it. I think you're just scared. You're so accustomed to disappointment that you can't even bring yourself to try."

"..."

"So...again, what is it you'd like to tell her?"

"..."

"Have you even thought about it?"

"She used to get this look on her face...whenever my dad was doing his _thing_."

"What thing?"

"Just...the lecturing and threatening and whatnot."

"What sort of expression did your mother have when he was doing this?"

"It was almost like...this is going to sound horribly contrived. But I swear it seemed like she was thinking _better you than me_."

"I don't think that sounds contrived at all. In fact, it's probably fairly accurate."

"..."

"So you think she was afraid of your father as well?"

"She never challenged him on anything, never questioned a single one of his decisions. I know there were things he was doing that she didn't agree with. But she never spoke up about it."

"So you feel like she was operating in her own best interest instead of yours."

"Not that I blame her. I can't say I wouldn't have done the same thing, were I in her position. But she was an adult. She could have left him anytime she wanted. She had other options."

"Why do you think she stayed with your father, despite the fact that their relationship was not a happy one?"

"That's just it, I don't know."

"And _that's_ what you want to ask her?"

"One of many things."

"I think you long to be able to tell her how much she's hurt you. I think there's a part of you that wants her to hurt too."

"..."

"Somehow I doubt that she isn't already hurting."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, people that feel compelled to inflict guilt on others tend to be people who are consumed with guilt themselves. Your mother cheated on your father and bore an illegitimate child. That alone is enough to produce a lifetime worth of guilt. But then she expected her husband to accept you as his own son, and out of guilt for making him do that, she stood by and watched while he manhandled and verbally assaulted you. That probably wouldn't have been quite so bad, if you had grown up to be happy and well adjusted. But you're not and every moment you spend being miserable serves as a reminder to her that she failed."

"..."

"Which is why she reacted so adversely to the news about you being a patient in a mental hospital. Because she knows, deep down, that she may have contributed to whatever brought you here. And she's grown so accustomed to not dealing with anything, that she has forgotten how to cope."

"..."

"I really think you should at least consider writing down what you want to say to her. Then we can read it and decide where to go from there."

"..."

"And I'd like you to read that letter from your father, sometime before our next session."

"Tell you what, I'll read the letter if you leave me alone about my mom."

"No."

"How about I call my mom and we forget about the letter?"

"This isn't _Let's Make a Deal_, Greg. You need to find a way to do both."

"..."

"Okay?"

"I'll think about it."

"That's all that I could ask for."


	36. Interrogation

_I sat down to type this, thinking I'd have to force myself to finish it and before I knew it I had 7000 words._

* * *

**Interrogation**

"James, it's good to see you...did you and Greg have a nice visit?"

"No, actually."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Look, I hate to unload on you like this. I know you're probably very busy. But I just really need someone to talk to, and I don't know where else to go."

"That's fine. I have time. Is everything okay?"

"Well, no…it's not."

"In what sense?"

"It's about House."

"I kind of figured out that part already. What about him?"

"I've been visiting him twice a week and we speak on the phone almost every day. But I can't help feeling like he's being he's...distant."

"Distant how?"

"He's hiding things."

"What sort of things do you think he's hiding?"

"That's just it. I don't know."

"Then how do you know he's hiding something?"

"I just know."

"Okay..."

"I just...figured if something were going on, he might have told you about it."

"Do you think I could tell you if he had?"

"No, but…"

"..."

"Right. You're right. Thanks. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Whoa...hold on. Sit down and relax for a minute. I can't _tell _you anything. But I _can_ still listen to what you have to say."

"..."

"Just tell me what's going on. Talk to me."

"It's going to sound ridiculous."

"I doubt it."

"I'm afraid I'm losing him."

"Why?"

"He's pulling away from me. I can feel it."

"What makes you think he's _pulling away_?

"I don't know. It's little things. But something is wrong, something big. I know it and he knows that I know it. He actually confirmed it. He confirmed that he was hiding something. He asked me not to pry, asked me to just_ trust_ him…"

"Hmm…except that you don't."

"Is that so wrong?"

"It's not about right or wrong, James. Is it wrong for you to have difficulty trusting someone who has proven to be untrustworthy in the past? Absolutely not. But there comes a time when you have a choice between either trusting that person or losing them."

"When I found that lump on my testicle, he was the first person I told. Even if we hadn't been…involved, he would have been the first person."

"Okay. Why?"

"Because…because he's always been the first person I've told about everything."

"Not _everything_."

"Okay, not everything. But most things...the important things."

"You've hidden plenty of things from him over the years, some of them very important."

"Yeah..."

"Why?"

"I don't know. House is…You know him. There are some things that he just can't handle. Some things he wouldn't understand. Some things…I'd rather not be subject to his scrutiny."

"Perhaps he feels the same way about you."

"I'm not...he doesn't care about my _scrutiny_."

"Why would you assume that?"

"I don't know."

"What _do_ you know?"

"I know that something is going on and he won't tell me what it is."

"Okay. And how do you know that?"

"He told me last week that you ordered a full physical. A few days later he said that he was having some follow up tests done. But when I saw him again, he refused to tell me the results."

"So?"

"If he were fine, he'd tell me. Ergo..."

"So based on that logic, you're assuming that he's _not_ fine."

"I asked him if it was his heart…he's about the right age for a bypass. He has established clotting issues. He doesn't eat right, you know. He'll eat cereal for every meal, if I let him. He still smokes, even though he promised to quit. He hardly exercises anymore…and it's got to be something serious if he would go to the trouble to actually _see_ another physician..."

"James…stop. You're making yourself crazy over this."

"I wouldn't be, if he would just tell me what was going on, instead of making me speculate and guess."

"This is completely unnecessary anxiety."

"_Is_ it?"

"Greg is an adult, and a very resourceful one at that. If by some chance there were something _wrong _with him, do you think that you knowing about it would make all the difference?"

"..."

"How exactly did you inquire about what was going on with Greg?"

"When he refused to tell me the results of his follow up tests, I asked him flat out what was going on. He told me to mind my own damn business. He wouldn't even tell me what the follow up tests _were_."

"I see. Did he seem angry about it, when you brought it up?"

"No...he just wouldn't tell me anything."

"And did you continue to pry, despite his request?"

"Yes."

"Has it occurred to you not to treat it like an interrogation?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're going into it, knowing that he's hiding something. Your goal seems to be to find out what that something is."

"So?"

"So, I think you would be more successful if you changed your goal."

"To what?"

"Why don't you just ask him how he's feeling?"

"Like he'd tell me."

"Have you ever asked him before?"

"That's not...House doesn't talk about his feelings."

"Just what the hell do you think he and I have been doing for the past eleven months?"

"It's not the same thing."

"I'm pretty sure it is."

"You're his therapist."

"So?"

"..."

"Has he ever reacted well to you invading his privacy?"

"_When_ have I invaded his privacy?"

"What about that letter you found in Greg's sock drawer?"

"..."

"You opened it and read it."

"It wasn't marked. There was nothing written on the outside. I had no way of knowing what was inside."

"Okay...but clearly Greg put the letter somewhere that he wasn't expecting you to look."

"So?"

"So that means he probably didn't intend for you to find it, let alone open it and read it."

"..."

"Why_ did_ you open it?"

"I was curious."

"And why did you insist on reading it to him, when you knew he had no desire to hear it?"

"I thought it was a nice letter. I thought...he _needed_ to hear it."

"Is it true that sometime last year, you absconded with Greg's cell phone, discovered that he was seeing a psychiatrist, and then announced your finding in the hospital lobby, loudly enough for other people to hear?"

"It wasn't like that."

"What was it like then?"

"It wasn't...nobody heard what I said and even if they did, he does stuff like that all the time."

"Ah. Well that makes it okay then."

"..."

"I think your intentions are good, James. But whether it was your intention or not, you still invaded his privacy."

"..."

"So...again, has he ever responded well to you invading his privacy?"

"No. I guess not."

"Then why would this be any different?"

"I don't know."

"Look, you know that _something_ is going on. You know I can't tell you what it is. You know _he's_ not going to tell you what it is. That doesn't mean you can't ask him what he needs you to do in the meantime, to make whatever it is easier for him."

"Like he would admit to _needing_ anything."

"You don't think he has needs?"

"I'm sure he does. I just don't think he'd tell me what they are."

"And you think I will?"

"If you know what's going on, why the hell can't you just tell me?"

"Because it would be illegal and unethical...because I have no desire to betray Greg's trust, in order to satisfy your curiosity. Because I'm confident that he will tell you when he's ready."

"What if he's never ready?"

"..."

"This isn't...he could be dying. He could have some _horrible_ disease..."

"Let me tell you this much. It's nothing that you could do anything about, professionally or personally. It is however, something that he will need your support to endure. Perhaps the best thing you can do is to just reassure him that you don't need to know what's going on, that you will be there for him no matter what happens."

"He's hiding something from me, something important. It could be a matter of life and death. You don't think I have the right to be upset about that?"

"You definitely have the right to be upset about it. What you don't have the right to do, is assume that you're entitled to any specific information."

"..."

"Any information anyone discloses to you is a gift, something that they have to give you willingly. Whether or not they continue to extend their trust tends to be based solely on what you do with that initial information."

"..."

"Has Greg been able to trust you with information in the past?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You told Greg first about the lump you found on your testicle. That was a choice that you made, right?"

"Right."

"Why did you do that?"

"..."

"If you only did that, because you were hoping to use it as a bargaining chip later on, then you did it for the wrong reasons."

"Right. I'm the one with the problem here."

"I don't think anyone has a _problem_ here."

"..."

"Did it occur to you that maybe Greg is protecting you?"

"Yes, that's _so_ like him."

"..."

"Wait...are you saying he is?"

"I'm saying you should consider the _possibility_ that he is."

"What the hell would he be protecting me from?"

"You don't handle trauma well. You don't handle loss well. You don't deal with stress well at all. He knows this. You being stressed out will only stress him out, which is why he's not telling you what's going on."

"Is he dying?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Would you tell me if he were?"

"Yes."

"You think he'd tell _you_ if he were?"

"Yes, I do."

"But it _is_ something?"

"Why do you need to know so badly?"

"I don't know."

"What do you think will happen if you don't find out?"

"..."

"Let's just say hypothetically that whatever this is, Greg manages it all by himself. He deals with it all and resolves it on his own, without ever consulting you at all. How would you feel about that?"

"I don't know..."

"Think about it for a second."

"Jilted, I guess."

"Why?"

"I...don't know."

"I think you might want to figure that out, before you take this any further."

"I suppose you already know."

"Well, I have theories. But they're probably biased."

"That's okay."

"You desire to control the outcome of everything. You think that by taking the right measures, you can avoid anything unpleasant. You think that by taking the right measures, you can help your loved ones to avoid anything unpleasant."

"..."

"You have a history of denying that something is happening, until you have no choice but to deal with it. Then you shut down and systematically alienate everyone and everything that forces you to confront whatever issue it is that you're avoiding. It's why you distanced yourself from Greg after Amber died. Because you knew that looking at him would only remind you of what you'd lost."

"..."

"You need to face the fact that some things are out of your control, that even if you do everything right, you could still lose."

"I know that."

"Do you?"

"..."

"What would you do if Greg were dying?"

"I thought you said he wasn't."

"He's not, technically. Technically, we're all dying. But I'm curious as to how you'd handle that."

"I don't know. It's not something I've given a lot of thought to."

"Why not?"

"I've...who the hell thinks about that?"

"I think you've avoided dealing with the real root of your problems here, which is the fact that you're terrified of losing him."

"Well, of course I'd be upset. I just don't see the point in _dwelling_ on it..."

"I'm not saying you should dwell on it. I'm saying you should look it in the face and shake its hand. Because when the time does come, you're going to be lost."

"This is...something is going on and he's lying to me about it."

"Why are you focusing on that? Why is it so important?"

"..."

"And he's not _lying_. You said he admitted to you that something was going on, right?"

"Yeah."

"And he's just choosing not to tell you what it is."

"So it's a lie of omission."

"James..."

"Yes, okay? I'm terrified of losing him. He's...my entire life is wrapped around him. If he died, it would be like losing a part of myself. I'd rend my garments and cover myself in ashes and probably spend the rest of my life mourning him. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Has it ever occurred to you to just tell him those things?"

"..."

"Why not?"

"He'd...laugh, or mock me, or worse."

"I seriously doubt it."

"House is...you know him."

"Yes, I do. Do you? Because sometimes I wonder."

"..."

"Here's what I think you should do...and you're welcome to decline. I think you should tell him that it doesn't matter what's going on with him. Tell him that you will respect his privacy and that you hope he will eventually be able to share what's going on with you. Tell him that you'll be there for him in the meantime, in whatever capacity he needs you to be."

"I...can't even imagine how he'd react to that."

"Only one way to find out."

"..."

"I also think this would be a great opportunity for you to demonstrate how much you trust Greg. You need to trust him to handle this on his own, and have the security of knowing that he will share the details with you when the time is right."

"..."

"Okay?"

"Yeah...okay."

"Look...I don't usually do this."

"Do what?"

"Do you have a minute?"

"Of course."

"Because Greg is my patient and you and I have our own a personal history, I've become way more implicated in your lives than I ever intended. I feel like I've crossed some necessary boundaries."

"I'm sure we're both fine with that. I am, at least."

"I know that you are and he probably is too, to some degree. But that doesn't necessarily make it healthy. I don't want the degree of my involvement in your lives to jeopardize his recovery or your relationship."

"It won't"

"Okay. I'll just cut to the chase. Greg is…well he's asked me to discuss a few things with you. I was actually going to do this over the phone. But since I've got you here, I think now is a good time."

"What kind of things?"

"Subjects that he himself finds it difficult to breach."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"I just never thought of House as someone who has…difficulty discussing things."

"Interesting. Why not?"

"He just...I don't know. He tends to be rather blunt."

"When it's about someone else, not when it's about himself. He is in fact, an intensely private person."

"True."

"..."

"What exactly is it that he wants me to know?"

"Well, let me just start by asking you a question."

"Okay."

"How you feel about his addictions and his addiction recovery?"

"How do I _feel_ about it? I don't know. His addiction has kind of taken over his life. Hell, it's taken over _my_ life."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"How do I _feel_ about it?"

"Yes."

"I guess...I used to be angry, frustrated. Now I'm sort of...ambivalent."

"Why ambivalent?"

"I guess I've attempted to emotionally distance myself from House's drug and alcohol related issues."

"Why?"

"Because it's stressful. Because...I don't know. I'd probably end up strangling him otherwise."

"You know that Greg has been clean for eight weeks now."

"Yeah."

"And from your expression I'd say you're doubting that he'll stay that way."

"I don't want to doubt him. I want to believe that it will work this time. It's just…up until now, it hasn't worked."

"I think he's very serious about his sobriety this time."

"Why? Why _now _and not a few months ago? What's different this time?"

"We've been able to confront some issues that we failed to address before. And he admitted that he wasn't really giving one hundred percent."

"And he is now?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Okay."

"But you still have doubts."

"You have no idea."

"Then give me an idea. What is it that you think I need to know?"

"The last time he was in rehab, three years ago, he paid an orderly to bring him Vicodin."

"I know that."

"Before he came back here, I caught him drinking cough syrup and mouthwash. And he was abusing over the counter allergy medication. He was taking diphenhydramine by the mouthful. I caught him swallowing fifteen twenty-five milligram tablets at once. That's like...five to ten times the recommended dosage. I'm surprised he didn't drop dead right there on the spot."

"I know about those things as well."

"He told you?"

"Yes."

"Did he tell you that he'd stashed pills all over the loft? I even found some in an ice cube tray."

"Yes."

"Did he tell you that he got some GP at Princeton General to write him a script for Xanax?"

"Hmm...no, he did not mention that."

"He was using them in addition to the script you'd written him."

"I guess I'll have to ask him about that, then."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"Does _what_ bother me?"

"That he lied to you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I assume he had his reasons. I doubt they have anything to do with me. It would be pointless of me to take it personally. And therapy isn't about extracting information from your patients. It's about creating an environment in which they'd feel _safe_ to disclose that information willingly."

"It's just...I don't think you realize what he's capable of, when he's desperate."

"Well, I know enough to understand why you'd develop such a viewpoint. I don't need to know _everything_ to get a decent picture of the situation."

"I guess."

"It's safe to say that you've been actively enabling Greg's addictions for quite some time. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes."

"What steps do you plan to take to change that?"

"Well, I'm not prescribing for him anymore. We've decided that he needs to choose another doctor to be his primary care physician."

"Okay. That's a good start. What else?"

"I've quit drinking. I wasn't that heavy a drinker to begin with. But I thought it would just be easier not to have it around."

"An admirable sacrifice on your part. What else?"

"I don't know what else. What else is there?"

"I think the best thing you can do to encourage him to stay clean is find some way to reinforce his positive behavior."

"Meaning?"

"Let him know how proud you are of his recovery. Every day he manages to stay sober is an accomplishment and that needs to be constantly reinforced. He may appear indifferent to his sobriety. But that's a facade. He needs to hear that he's doing the right thing. He needs to hear it regularly. So you should focus on what he's doing right and not what he's doing wrong and try to refrain from passing any sort of judgment on him."

"I don't pass _judgment_ on him."

"Really? You judged him just a moment ago."

"I didn't...I was making an observation."

"About his moral character, based on his addiction related behaviors."

"Am I not supposed to make observations?"

"No, you absolutely can. But you need to remind yourself that we are not our behavior. We are not the sum of our flaws and mistakes. Greg should have the freedom to fail and the assurance that you will still be there when he does, that you're not just going to walk away when things start getting tough."

"He has...abandonment issues."

"He fears that everyone he cares about will eventually leave him. He views this as an inevitability. That is a belief that only time can repair."

"How _much_ time?"

"Are you in some kind of hurry?"

"No. I just..."

"It would be unfair of you to disregard the fact that you are responsible for at least a small percentage of that fear."

"Why, because I left after Amber died?"

"Not just that. But yes."

"I've apologized. We've...talked about it."

"I know. But the damage has not been magically undone."

"So you're saying it's my fault that House can't trust anyone?"

"I'm saying it's possible that you contributed to that. Chances are, he already had those issues to begin with. All you did was reinforce his belief that no one can be trusted and that everyone is out for themselves."

"Right."

"I'm not scolding you, James. I'm just trying to equip you with tools to make this relationship work."

"..."

"Moving on to the next topic that he wanted us to discuss. Can I ask...how much do you know about Greg's relationship with his father?"

"Not much."

"What_ do_ you know?"

"Well, the man died last year and House barely batted an eye. His mother called me to make sure he attended the funeral, because House apparently wasn't planning on going."

"Had you ever met Greg's father?"

"A handful of times. A couple of years ago, he and his wife had a layover in Newark and dropped in to see House. I spoke to his mother on the phone on several occasions."

"Why do you think it was so important to you, that Greg make it to the funeral?"

"I just..."

"What?"

"This is going to sound incredibly petty. But I'd recently lost Amber. I thought maybe House would have a better understanding of my grief if he was confronted with his own."

"Did it occur to you that Greg might have had a reason for not wanting to go?"

"Sure, that occurred to me. But I didn't see why that should matter. The man was dead. It's not like they were going to be arguing. All he had to do was show up, give a quick speech and go home. Hardly a great sacrifice."

"Well, first let me say that what people consider to be traumatic is relative."

"Uh...okay."

"How trauma affects us is relative. And there were some aspects to Greg's childhood that were in fact quite traumatic, things that would explain him not wanting to see his father, whether he was dead or alive."

"I imagine that his father was...strict."

"Define _strict_."

"Well, he was in the military. I assume that lifestyle was rather rigid. And House is...not one who takes well to rules and boundaries."

"I see."

"Why? What happened?"

"Well, Greg's given me permission to disclose some things."

"What kind of things?"

"Well the first is that his father was, for lack of a more appropriate term, abusive."

"Abusive how?"

"He wants me to be...as vague as possible."

"So be as vague as possible."

"Mostly it was excessive corporal punishment. But there was also verbal abuse. There was a lack of emotional support, a lack of affection, a lot of discouragement. Greg's father would sometimes punish him in ways that were unnecessary and could be interpreted as...cruel."

"Like how?"

"Are you sure you really want to know?"

"How bad _is_ it?"

"I'll let you be the judge of that."

"Alright."

"Greg has given me permission to tell you that on at least one occasion, he was expected to sleep outside in the yard and that he was once submerged in a tub of ice water."

"Oh...my _God_. How old was he when that happened?"

"I don't recall the exact ages. I only know they were two separate incidents."

"Wait...and he just _told_ you about these things?"

"No, not right away. It took some trust building, before he was willing to disclose that information. I'm actually a little uncomfortable being the one to share this with you. But he asked me to and I know that he probably doesn't possess the ability to do so on his own.

"I had no idea."

"I figured as much."

"I mean, I've known him for seventeen years and he never once mentioned it. He barely mentioned his parents at all. Maybe if I'd _known_..."

"What difference do you think it would have made if you _had_ known?"

"I...have no idea."

"How do you feel, now that you _do_ know?"

"I don't know. House is...I mean, wow. It certainly explains a lot. But...I don't know."

"Do you think maybe you could apologize to Greg, for forcing him attend his father's funeral?"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"I don't understand what that's designed to accomplish."

"It's designed to communicate regret and facilitate closure."

"But...I don't regret it."

"Explain."

"Because I didn't know any better. At the time, based on the information I had, making House attend the funeral seemed like the right thing to do. It_ was_ the right thing to do."

"But you later learned that it wasn't the right thing to do and Greg was still deeply affected by that misunderstanding."

"I honestly thought he seemed fine with it."

"Really. He seemed_ fine_ with it."

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"He was fine with being drugged and kidnapped, with having his cane, Vicodin and cell phone taken from him while he was still unconscious. He was fine with being forced to urinate in a bottle, instead of using the toilet at a rest stop."

"Okay...you're making this into way more than it was. I never actually _made_ him use the bottle. We stopped to use a public restroom, twice. I gave him back his pills, his cane _and_ his phone. He still went to the funeral. He even gave the eulogy. If he really didn't want to do either of those things, I'm sure he'd have found some way to stop us from getting there."

"Like...throwing the keys to your car in the sewer?"

"..."

"_And _trying to get you arrested?"

"I would never have told you those things if I'd known they were going to be used against me. I mean, Daryll...seriously. I'm telling you, it wasn't as bad as he probably made it sound."

"I have not found Greg to be someone who exaggerates or embellishes things, in order to garner sympathy."

"Well then you haven't known him long enough."

"So you don't think the fact that Greg was willing to go to such extremes was enough of an indicator of how reluctant he might have been to attend the funeral?"

"You don't get it. House...does that kind of stuff every day. _Everything_ he does is in the extreme. And it was never my goal to _traumatize_ him. You're acting like I tortured him, tied him up and beat on him like a piñata. All I did was deliver him to his father's funeral."

"What you intended is irrelevant. What matters is how it made Greg feel."

"How about how _I_ feel?"

"How _do _you feel?"

"House was a pain in the ass during that entire trip. I could have lost my keys in that sewer drain, I mean permanently. They weren't just my car keys either. We both could have been seriously injured when he pulled that stunt in the car and we could have easily detained for more than just a few hours at the police station."

"So again, don't you think the fact that Greg was willing to go to such extremes was a reflection of how reluctant he might have been to attend his father's funeral?"

"I...didn't really think about it."

"Why not?"

"Because...House never showed any interest in his family, not during the entire time that I've known him. It seemed natural that he'd be reluctant to attend the funeral."

"So at no point during your relationship did you theorize about why Greg might not be _interested_ in his family."

"I don't know."

"You never even speculated?"

"House...alienates people. He's abrasive and rude. He has very few interpersonal relationships."

"So you were operating on the assumption that Greg's estrangement from his parents was a result of his own character flaws and not theirs."

"Yes, if that's what you want to hear. I did."

"Not an unreasonable assumption. But now you know that wasn't the case."

"..."

"I really think it would benefit you both if you apologized for that misunderstanding."

"Fine."

"Is it really?"

"No. I mean, I still don't understand what the hell I'm apologizing for. But I'll say I'm sorry, if you think it will help."

"I don't want you to just _say_ it. I want you to be genuinely sorry, not for taking him to the funeral necessarily, but for how that made him feel."

"Why?"

"Because I can't imagine that he was unaware of your point of view regarding his relationship with his parents. He said that he made an attempt to share with you why he might be reluctant to attend the funeral and that you, in so many words, expressed sympathy for his mother and father and told him that _he _was the one with the problem."

"I _never_ said that."

"What _did _you say?"

"I said...I'm assuming that you know his dad isn't his real dad, right?"

"Yes. We've covered that in great detail."

"Apparently when House was twelve or so, he thought it would be a good idea to approach his father about this. He said that when he did, his father didn't speak to him for the rest of the summer."

"And you think that a grown man ignoring his son for three months is an appropriate response to whatever it was that Greg might have said?"

"Hey...I don't know. I just know that if _my_ son came to me and told me that I wasn't his _real father_, I would probably be...hurt and offended. _That's_ what I told him."

"What if you _weren't _his father?"

"The man raised him. He was probably well aware that House wasn't his biological child. Rubbing it in his face was...unnecessary."

"Why do you assume that Greg _rubbed _it in his father's face?"

"I don't know."

"What are you basing that on?"

"..."

"How do you think Greg might have felt about your assessment of his father son relationship?"

"He didn't appear to be offended."

"You mean at the time."

"Yes."

"But you know now that he actually was."

"Yeah."

"So...again, do you think you might be willing to apologize...genuinely?"

"I guess."

"Glad to hear it."

"..."

"And don't think I won't follow up with you about this either, because I will."

"I'm sure."

"..."

"Is that all you wanted to discuss with me?"

"Uh...no. There's one more thing, well two actually. But I'll make it fast because I have an appointment in twenty minutes and I need to review their chart first."

"Okay."

"I want to know how you're coping with your girlfriend's death."

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Are you uncomfortable discussing this topic?"

"No...I'm fine discussing it. I'm just curious as to why you're asking."

"Is it true that you have photographs of Amber up all over your apartment?"

"I have..._some_ pictures of Amber up in the apartment."

"How many?"

"I couldn't give you an exact integer."

"Estimate."

"Five, six?"

"Can I ask why?"

"Why _what_?"

"I mean, why do you have those pictures up?"

"I need a reason to hang up pictures of people that I care about?"

"How many pictures of Greg do you have hanging in your apartment?"

"None."

"..."

"But that's because of me. It's because he hates having his picture taken. Even the picture on his hospital ID is ten years old."

"I see. Have you given any thought to how it might make him feel, being forced to stare at the face of a woman who would still be alive if not for him?"

"He certainly hasn't mentioned it."

"I think we've established the problem with _that_ logic. Do you have any reason to believe that he would openly communicate with you about something that was bothering him?"

"He has before. But not generally, no."

"He's mentioned it to me, several times."

"Mentioned what?"

"The pictures of Amber that you have on display."

"Great."

"Do you think Greg is sorry about what happened to Amber?"

"He _said_ he was."

"Which implies that maybe you don't believe him."

"It's not that I don't believe him."

"Alright."

"I just...I don't know. I was still grieving when I came back from my bereavement."

"How long was your bereavement?"

"Eight weeks."

"That's a long enough period of time to adjust to a major life change, or at least to the point at which it would not longer be debilitating."

"House's immediate response to my grief was to mock me for it."

"I'm not sure in what way he _mocked_ you. But I can tell you what I think his goal might have been."

"Okay."

"He was subconsciously hoping that by minimizing your grief, you would actually refrain from grieving. If he didn't take it seriously, then it was more likely that you wouldn't either."

"Sounds...plausible."

"The truth is, Greg is carrying a heavy load right now, one that he can't seem let go of. I think you might be of some help in that department."

"How?"

"I shouldn't be telling you this at all, because it indirectly violates confidentiality. But I can confidently tell you that Greg is most definitely sorry. He feels terrible. He _continues_ to feel terrible every day. I can't help thinking that having pictures of your girlfriend hanging in your home is only exacerbating his guilt, and making it impossible for him to heal and move on."

"I'm supposed to just get over my girlfriend's, in order to make _his _life easier."

"You should get over it because you've had more than enough time to get over it."

"Right."

"And what you're doing now, isn't healthy."

"Just what is it that you think I'm doing?"

"Is it true that you sometimes converse out loud with your dead girlfriend?"

"..."

"Have I upset you?"

"No..."

"You definitely look upset to me."

"..."

"Tell me what you're feeling."

"He had no right to divulge that information."

"I certainly think he did."

"Why? It's none of his business. It's none of _your_ business."

'He was convinced that he was hallucinating for three days."

"Yeah, he told me."

"At the time?"

"No. Right before my surgery."

"So you realize that he was overhearing you talking to Amber and mistaking it for an auditory hallucination."

"I do now."

"Have you ever hallucinated?"

"No."

"Never experimented with psychedelics?"

"I dropped acid once and the experience was fairly unmemorable."

"Well it's...pretty scary. Losing touch with reality is scary."

"You're saying I traumatized him by talking to my dead girlfriend? Give me a break."

"I didn't say he was traumatized. But he was definitely affected."

"..."

"Why are you so reluctant to view Greg as a human being?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that."

"What I mean is, you seem oblivious to the possibility that he has fears, weaknesses and vulnerabilities. The idea that he could be hurt or offended by something you've said or done is completely foreign to you. Yet you have no trouble believing that you or either of Greg's parents are capable of being hurt or offended."

"..."

"I'm wondering why that is."

"I don't know."

"Do you still talk to Amber?"

"..."

"You're uncomfortable discussing this."

"Yeah, I am."

"It's been almost two years since she passed."

"So? Is there some kind of statute of limitations on grief?"

"Actually there is. In the mental health field, we tend to gauge recovery according to how long you knew the person. If you get divorced, it should take as many months for you to get over it, as years you were married. The same applies to death."

"By that logic, I should have gotten over Amber in a matter of days."

"I'm concerned about the rate at which you're grieving. You should have been further along by now. And you're in a new relationship already. The fact that you can't let go of the past sends the message to Greg that he is not good enough to fill the void that Amber's death left you with."

"That's ridiculous. Why the hell would he think that?"

"Because you feel the need to decorate a home that you share with pictures of your dead girlfriend."

"Are you saying I should have to take them down?"

"I'm saying you should _want_ to take them down."

"And you think there's something wrong with me, because I don't."

"I think you're having a hard time getting over that loss. The problem is, you're not alone anymore."

"..."

"Would you consider a compromise?"

"Like what?"

"Like...picking out your favorite picture of her, and taking down the rest. Like making a point of getting a picture of Greg and hanging it up as well?"

"Well that's going to be a challenge."

"Why?"

"I don't have any pictures of him. I think I _may_ have some candid shots of him from my second wedding."

"How about the two of you get your picture taken together?"

"I doubt he'd go for that."

"You'd be surprised."

"..."

"You look overwhelmed, James."

"I guess I kind of am."

"I know this was an awful lot of information to drop on you all at once."

"It's...I'm still processing. But I'll manage."

"How are you feeling about the things we discussed?"

"I honestly don't know."

"..."

"I think maybe...you're right."

"Right about what?"

"Maybe I don't know him as well as I thought I did."

"I see."

"..."

"It's not too late to change that though."

"..."

"_Do_ you want to change it?"

"Yeah. I mean, why wouldn't I?"

"I think we should talk about what that means, exactly."

"Okay."

"If you want to change your relationship with Greg for the better, you're _both_ going to have to commit to making it work."

"I can see how that would constitute a change for him. But how is that different than what I'm already doing?"

"It's a_ lot_ different than what you're already doing. You're going to have to be willing do some serious emotional labor and engage in a whole lot of introspection. You're going to have to take the time to examine issues and ideas that you've avoided thus far, because they make you uncomfortable."

"I thought this was about getting House better, helping him beat his addictions."

"And you don't think you're tied into that?"

"..."

"You're a couple now, James. And Greg cannot and _will_ not grow or change as a person, if you refuse to do the same."

"..."

"Are you prepared to grow and change as a person?"

"I...don't know."

"Why not?"

"..."

"What is it exactly that you're so apprehensive about?"

"I honestly don't know."

"Is this important to you?"

"Is _what_ important to me?"

"Your relationship with Greg."

"Of course."

"Then you will figure it out."

* * *

_Apparently someone was offended by something that was said by Dr. Nolan in this particular chapter. I won't say what it was, since it's basically irrelevant. Frankly I was thoroughly amused to discover that they were even reading the story to begin with. _

_But I just wanted to make it clear, since there seems to be some confusion, that I am not a psychiatrist, a psychologist or a physician of any sort. I have a great deal of knowledge and some education in those areas. I have also done many hours of volunteer counseling. But I am not actually licensed to practice in the field of mental health. _

_Therefore I find that I need to remind people (although I would have thought it was painfully obvious) that this is a work of fiction. Please do not take ANYTHING that you see here in this story (or any of my stories for that matter) and feel compelled to apply it to your own life. This is just fiction. _

_I'll repeat it one last time for the special needs section of the class: THIS IS FICTION._


	37. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 25

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"So."

"_So_ what?"

"So how are we going to deal with this?"

"_We_ aren't going to do anything. _I_ will do the angioplasty, surgically insert some stents and if necessary, bypass."

"And that's it. You're going to have open heart surgery and just...let it roll off your back."

"I can't do anything about it. Seems like the logical course of action."

"How are your kidney and liver function? I haven't had a chance to review the labwork."

"Wilson ask you to ask me?"

"Naturally."

"You going to tell him what I say?"

"You know that I no longer can."

"And you're going to honor that?"

"You have some reason to believe that I wouldn't?"

"It's about what you'd expect. There's some deterioration, obviously. My blood pressure is up…I've got some edema, some fluid retention. It's nothing that medication can't fix."

"Medication can't repair the damage to your organs, Greg."

"So?"

"So a transplant could buy you another five to ten years, problem free."

"Not necessarily. There are other blood vessels affected by FMD."

"..."

"And I'm not eligible anyway."

"You are for live donation."

"No."

"_No_ what?"

"No. I won't let him do that."

"Why do you assume I meant him?"

"Who the hell else would you mean? You think there are people just lining up to give me their vital organs?"

"You don't think you're worth it?"

"That has nothing to do with it."

"I think it has_ everything_ to do with it. You've admitted to me on more than one occasion that you don't think you deserve to live."

"That's not what I...He's like ten years younger than I am."

"So?"

"So he could still…find someone else, have a life."

"You're not dying, Greg. It's a manageable, chronic disease."

"It's degenerative."

"_Everything's_ degenerative."

"Precisely. One way or another, something will fail…heart, kidneys, lungs, brain. Some artery will fail to bring blood to some organ, and I'll stroke or pop an aneurysm. Anything repaired with surgery will eventually reverse itself. My life will be shortened."

"So you have _more_ surgeries."

"Yeah, it's that simple."

"Maybe you don't want to have more surgeries."

"Who the hell does?"

"Death is an easy way out. It means never having to worry about whether or not things would have worked out between you and James."

"It has _nothing_ to do with that."

"I think it does."

"It's just...he shouldn't commit to someone who is only going to weigh him down."

"Why?"

"He just shouldn't. No one should."

"All relationships involve give and take. Any worthwhile relationship entails some degree of personal sacrifice. Making a commitment to another human being means volunteering to be weighed down at some point."

"..."

"And he loves you."

"Wilson loves everybody. That doesn't mean he should give them his internal organs."

"He's going to want to."

"Wilson wants a lot of things that he shouldn't have."

"Don't we all?"

"Fair enough."

"When's the surgery?"

"Haven't scheduled it yet."

"Why not?"

"I thought I'd wait until you discharged me."

"Well, good. That's only a week away."

"And I'm...waiting on a second opinion."

"Second…to your own? You're a nephrologist."

"…"

"You don't trust your own judgment?"

"I've heard tell that it's a bad idea to diagnose yourself."

"It's never stopped you before."

"Yeah, and that worked out _really_ well."

"You predicted kidney failure based only on wide complex tachycardia. You saved your own life."

"And_ what_ a life."

"What exactly are you so afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid."

"It's okay if you are."

"I just want to be sure."

"The tests were fairly conclusive. What do you think you're going to find out?"

"I'm just covering all my bases."

"Sorry, but…that's not you."

"It is now."

"Why?"

"…"

"What's changed?"

"..."

"I'm sure the obvious has not escaped you. If you have fibromuscular dysplasia, it would explain the infarction. It could even explain your continued leg pain, your deteriorating eyesight, your nausea and fluctuating loss of appetite, and any number of other miscellaneous symptoms that you've experienced during your adult life...symptoms that have always been attributed to your drug and alcohol use."

"…"

"How do you feel about finally getting a valid medical explanation for those things?"

"Thrilled. Gonna throw a great, big party. Liquor free, of course."

"It sounds like you're angry."

"Nope."

"I think you are."

"What the hell difference does it make? Being angry won't change anything. So why bother?"

"Because it's healthier to express that anger, than it is to keep it bottled up inside."

"I don't see the point in getting angry about something I can't do anything about."

"Now I don't believe _that_ for a second."

"And besides, it wasn't rocket science."

"What wasn't?"

"A nurse practitioner figured it out, based on vomiting and lower back pain."

"Which nurse practitioner?"

"The one who did the ultrasound of my liver and kidneys."

"How did she figure it out?"

"Apparently she'd written a paper on it. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought she was excited."

"..."

"Not that I can't relate to that mindset. I mean, I should probably get a resume or something."

"Did Dr. Ahern confirm the diagnosis?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you need a second opinion?"

"..."

"Why does that bother you that someone else managed to figure out what was wrong with you?"

"It doesn't."

"It sounds like it does."

"It fits. It's perfect."

"So?"

"So it explains everything. It was there all along...I shouldn't have missed it."

"What do you think would have happened if you _hadn't_ missed it?"

"…"

"You think you could have avoided becoming handicapped, could have avoided becoming dependant on pain medication?"

"Too late now."

"It's a fairly rare disease. I don't see how you could possibly have known. And a blood clot in your thigh would have been a rather odd presentation."

"Diagnosing rare illnesses is kind of what I do."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"You say you think it's a waste of time to get angry about things you can't do anything about. But then you have a tendency to dwell on things that you cannot change."

"…"

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know."

"But you're at least acknowledging that you do dwell on them."

"It's my nature to obsess about things. There's no reason failure would be any different."

"Are you still smoking?"

"Just here and there."

"How many packs?"

"Maybe two a week."

"That's not just _here and there_."

"It's not like there's much else to _do_ here."

"I'm sure you know that cigarette smoking will only exacerbate whatever damage is being done to your blood vessels."

"I _did_ go to medical school."

"Doesn't mean you're capable of discontinuing unhealthy behavior at will. Most people aren't. And considering your ongoing struggles with addiction, I think it's a valid concern."

"I'm going to quit...eventually."

"You said that before."

"Yeah, well. I've obviously got a different motivation now."

"You were aware that you had clotting issues before. How is this any different?"

"..."

"So again...how are we going to deal with this?"

"What's this _we _business?"

"Well from what I understand, you're not letting James in on this. I doubt you'd confide in any other patients, your colleagues, your employees, your boss or your mother. You're going to need a support system of some sort."

"He talked to you."

"Of course he talked to me. He knew something was going on and he didn't know where else to turn."

"What did you tell him?"

"That he should respect your wishes and mind his own business."

"I'll bet."

"You don't trust me?"

"I don't trust _him_."

"You think he could manipulate me?"

"Yes."

"..."

"Sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"It's not you. That's just...what he does."

"I see."

"I...you know, a couple years ago, I had a distended bladder. I couldn't pee for like four days. I went to Wilson for a prescription for alfuzosin."

"Why did you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you probably knew in advance that as your friend he couldn't possibly be objective. You had a legitimate, physiological symptom. Why not just make an appointment with some other doctor?"

"..."

"Right. So you went to him with a distended bladder and then what?"

"He told me to stop taking the Vicodin."

"So he assumed that your urethral stricture was a result of acetaminophen toxicity."

"Of course."

"Not a _completely_ unreasonable assumption."

"..."

"Although he still should have considered other possibilities. And even if the Vicodin was to blame for your dysuria, discontinuing the drugs wouldn't necessarily reverse the problem, at least not immediately."

"..."

"But James was convinced that the source of your problem was the drugs."

"Yes."

"And now you know that was not the case."

"I knew _then_ that it wasn't the case."

"But it didn't matter."

"Nope."

"And now you're wondering how many other ailments of yours James and other people have dismissed, or attributed to your drug and alcohol use."

"When you're an addict..."

"What?"

"Everything's about that. People look at you and it's all they see. The drugs, the alcohol...they're the reason for everything you do. It's not just what you are. It's _who_ you are."

"Do you think people have judged you, based on your addictions?"

"I _know_ they have."

"How does that make you feel?"

"I don't know...less."

"What do you mean _less_?"

"I mean, less than them."

"Ah. I could see how you might feel that way."

"..."

"That says a great deal more about them than it does about you, though."

"..."

"How did you eventually regain the ability to urinate?"

"Catheter."

"So you_ did_ seek some sort of medical attention."

"No."

"No?"

"I did it myself."

"You _cathed_ yourself?"

"..."

"I didn't think you could _do_ that."

"Where there's a will, there's a way."

"That must have been very painful, or at the very least, extremely uncomfortable."

"..."

"He thinks you're pushing him away."

"Of course he does. Everything is always about him."

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Pushing him away."

"..."

"Why?"

"Wilson...doesn't handle losing people very well."

"But you're not going to die."

"Not today. But eventually, yeah...sooner than later. People with FMD don't typically live past the age of sixty."

"So you're just protecting him from that potential loss."

"..."

"That's big of you."

"I'm protecting myself."

"Right."

"..."

"The two of you bought a condo together."

"So? It's not like I've been using it. I've been _here_ for the last two months."

"But you'll be going home very soon. Living together, owning a home together, that's a huge commitment. Makes it pretty hard to cut him out of your life."

"I'm not trying to _cut_ him out of my life. I'm just..."

"Just backing off a little."

"..."

"How much is _a little_?"

"He makes enough money. It's not like he couldn't afford the monthly payments on his own."

"..."

"And from what I understand, my old apartment is still vacant."

"Are you serious?"

".."

"You can't be serious."

"..."

"You've just been diagnosed with a debilitating, degenerative illness and your instinct is to push away the sole member of your support system."

"Nothing's changed, doc. I'm just as sick today as I was last week. The only difference is that now I know about it."

"And you don't think you're going to need help to get through this?"

"You don't understand."

"What is it that you think I don't understand?"

"Wilson...he won't get over this."

"So?"

"So If I stay..."

"What?"

"It will become _our place_."

"So?"

"So if it becomes _our place_, when I die..."

"_If_ you die."

"_When _I die."

"He's going to turn it into the Taj Mahal?"

"He barely knew Amber for four months and he has pictures of her all over the damn place."

"So you've said. And you're clearly bothered by that. Yet you've failed to address it with him or tell him how you feel."

"I've addressed it."

"Really?"

"..."

"You've said_ I'm really uncomfortable having these pictures up in our home...can you please take them down or consider other options_?"

"..."

"I'll take that as a _no_."

"..."

"So you think that if he reacted that strongly to the death of someone he barely knew, he would be completely ill equipped to handle yours."

"I don't want him to sacrifice what's left of his life for me. I've cost him enough already."

"I don't think he sees it that way."

"Well...then he's an idiot."

"..."

"Trust me. He wouldn't be able to deal with this."

"And you think you can deal with it alone?"

"I'm used to flying solo."

"That hasn't worked out so well for you, in the past."

"I'm fine...I don't mind going down in flames, as long as I don't drag anyone else down with me."

"I don't believe you."

"..."

"I think you're terrified."

"..."

"I think that you _want_ to be able to depend on him right now. I think you _long_ to trust him that much."

"..."

"But you don't."

"I have my reasons."

"I know, and they're very good reasons."

"..."

"But there comes a time when you have to be willing to take that risk."

"..."

'You need to give him a chance. He can't be there for you, unless you give him a chance."

"You don't...I don't know."

"What? Finish your thought."

"When he found out that Amber was dying, I mean at that _exact_ moment...the look on his face was like..."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. I just know that I don't ever want to see it again. I don't want to be the reason it's there."

"You can't protect him from this, Greg."

"..."

"Even if you pull away. Even if you move out. Even if you tell him to go screw himself and that you never want to see him again, he would still be devastated by your death. He would still be deeply affected by that loss."

"..."

"And you don't_ want_ to bear that responsibility,_ do_ you?"

"_Nobody_ should have to bear that responsibility."

"I want you to accept that there are some things that are out of your control. I want you to learn to depend on people, to risk becoming attached, to risk them becoming attached to you."

"It's not like there's anything he could do about it."

"So?"

"So...there's no reason for him to know. He'll want to do something about it. He'll delude himself into thinking he can. In the end, he'll just be disappointed."

"So why not just let him be disappointed? He's a grown man. He can handle it. It should be his choice."

"No, it should be _my_ choice."

"And you don't think he's going to notice a massive scar running the full length of your torso?"

"..."

"You're the one who's sick here."

"So?"

"So why is it that _you_ feel guilty?"

"I don't feel _guilty_."

"I know guilt when I see it, and _this_ is guilt."

"..."

"You obviously still blame yourself for Amber's death, for the pain that it caused."

"Obviously."

"And you think that by dying, you'd just be adding insult to injury."

"No..."

"..."

"I'm afraid of what he might do...because whatever the hell it is, I won't be around to stop it."

"He's an adult, Greg."

"Yeah...sometimes I wonder."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"I'm curious why it is that the two of you expect so little of one another."

"Experience."

"Either way, you're both responsible for your own feelings and actions."

"I don't want to tell him."

"You have that right. But I feel professionally obligated to tell you...that I think you're making a mistake."

"..."

"So...again...how are we going to deal with this?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to talk about your diagnosis or your treatment options?"

"Not especially."

"I really think we should."

"Yeah...maybe later."

"After you get your _second opinion_?"

"Maybe."

"So we _are_ going to discuss this."

"Eventually."

"Okay. We still have a few minutes yet. How should we spend it?"

"Yodeling?"

"It would be wrong of me not to point this out that you've been clean for eight weeks now. That's quite a milestone."

"Yeah."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"How does _that_ feel?"

"Better than I thought it would."

"I'm glad to hear it. I want you to be able to take pride in your accomplishments."

"I'm not sure this qualifies as an accomplishment."

"It most definitely does. Remember what I said about success being subjective?"

"..."

"You don't seem all that happy about it though."

"I am."

"So _this_ is you being happy."

"..."

"What's the problem?"

"I just…it's Wilson."

"What about him?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was…happier before."

"Happier before what? You mean, when you were still using?"

"…"

"Why do you think that is?"

"It's going to sound petty."

"So what? This is therapy. Petty away."

"I think there's a part of him that doesn't want me to be sober. I think there's a part of him that...doesn't want me to succeed."

"Mmm hmm."

"That's it, _mmm hmm_?"

"Greg there's a part of all of us who doesn't want to see other people succeed, even the people that we love and care about."

"..."

"I'm happy that you're better, that you're doing well. But there's probably even a tiny part of me that wishes you would continue to be sick, so that I could continue trying to make you well."

"Why?"

"Because...I enjoy making you well."

"…"

"Not the answer you were expecting?"

"_No_, actually."

"You thought I'd tell you how ridiculous you're being, that it's all in your mind, that you're just projecting your insecurities onto him?"

"Yeah."

"I think the opposite is true."

"Meaning?"

"I think he's projecting his insecurities onto you."

"_Meaning?"_

"When and if an addict finally does become clean, they and their loved ones have to scramble to reevaluate that relationship. As much as James wants to see you sober and free of addiction, there's a part of him that's mourning the loss of that dynamic. He has to redefine himself, now that he is no longer your enabler, your rescuer, no longer the person who picks up after your messes and takes care of your mistakes."

"..."

"It also means that he no longer has the security of knowing for sure that he's morally superior."

"I like that last part."

"I kind of figured you would."

"..."

"James has been defining himself as your enabler for far too long. And you're just as guilty of perpetuating that. You've enabled his enabling. You two are codependent, to an almost toxic degree. You have to become clean of one another, before either of you can move forward towards a healthier life. That's one of the reasons I wanted to extend your stay here."

"..."

"I'd say from your expression that you agree."

"Yeah."

"..."

"So how _do _I deal with this?"

"You're actually asking me?"

"Hey...that's why I'm here, right?"

"Right."

"..."

"You should find ways to reassure James that even though you're doing better, he's still needed, that what he means to you isn't dependent on you being an addict. It isn't dependent on anything at all."

"What if he doesn't believe it?"

"Then that's on him."

"..."

"I think letting him in on what's going on with your health would be a great start."

"..."

"He's going to want to try to fix you, to save you. Maybe this is a good opportunity for him to learn that you can still _need_ him, even if he doesn't play that particular role."

"I'm not sure I know how to do that."

"Start with boundaries."

"What kind of boundaries?"

"Everything needs boundaries. Take responsibility for yourself, for your feelings and your actions. Let him know that any support he gives you is appreciated, but you're not dependant on it."

"Sounds simple enough."

"Speaking of boundaries...have you had a chance to talk to your mother, since we spoke last?"

"Mmm...sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I called her. But we didn't really _talk_."

"When was this?"

"Last night."

"You don't seem too thrilled about that."

"That's because I'm not."

"How did it go?"

"Pretty much like I expected."

"How so?"

"She...refused to talk about anything remotely important. I persisted, of course. She deflected. I persisted some more and she cried. I persisted some more and she got angry. I persisted..."

"And then what happened?"

"She hung up."

"Really?"

"But not before accusing me of lying, of course...and letting me know that I was exacerbating her hypertension. You know...because that way if she has a stroke, it can be my fault."

"That's...incredibly manipulative."

"You have no idea."

"Has your mother ever made comments like that before?"

"She used to say I was the reason her hair went gray. She'd say that _one of these days_, I was going to give her a heart attack."

"But surely you've considered the possibility that she was just being hyperbolic."

"_Everything_ my mother says qualifies as a hyperbole."

"Has she ever hung up on you before?"

"Not to the best of my recollection."

"What exactly did she think you were lying about?"

"I don't know...everything, it seemed like."

"Did she actually say you were lying?"

"She implied it."

"Did you ask her how she reached the conclusion that you were being dishonest?"

"Yeah. But she didn't really have an answer for that."

"She must have told you something."

"She seems to think I orchestrated all of this."

"All of what?"

"All of _this_, that I'm having some kind of nervous breakdown just to spite her and my father. I'm _punishing_ them, see."

"Punishing them for what?"

"She didn't say."

"But the fact that she would even make such a suggestion implies a guilty conscience, or that she and her husband may have done something that they think they deserve to be punished for."

"Her maybe. But not him."

"You don't think your father was capable of feeling guilt or remorse?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was. But I saw no evidence of it."

"I'm sure other people could make a similar observation about you. Yet I know from personal experience that you are in fact capable of feeling remorse."

"..."

Is it possible that your perception of your father is biased?"

"Of course it's possible."

"Did your mother provide any explanation for her belief, that you're having a nervous breakdown to spite her?"

"No."

"Did you ask her to?"

"I didn't get that far."

"Did you get a chance to ask her some of the things you've been wanting to know?"

"I tried to."

"What did you ask?"

"Who my biological father was."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"And she refused to respond or she just ignored the question?"

"She wouldn't even acknowledge that my father _wasn't_ my father."

"Did you explain to her that you'd already run a DNA test?"

"Like I said, I didn't get that far."

"What exactly did she say?"

"She said there are some things that I just don't need to know."

"Did you tell her she was wrong?"

"I tried to, several times."

"And then she hung up."

"Yep."

"Are you going to try again?"

"I don't know. I mean, what's the point?"

"Well I can certainly see why you'd be discouraged. But there are some issues here that obviously need to be addressed."

"Which is fairly meaningless if she refuses to discuss them."

"How old is your mother?"

"She's seventy-three."

"In good health?"

"Not especially."

"How so?"

"Well l ike I said, there's the hypertension and then she has a family history of heart disease."

"You think it's possible that she's going to die soon?"

"Define _soon_."

"In the next few months, let's say."

"I think so, yes."

"Why?"

"Most of the time, when someone's spouse of fifty years or more kicks the bucket, they aren't far behind."

"Agreed. But that tends to be more true when the first person to die is the wife, not the husband. Statistics show that women bounce back from the loss of a spouse more easily than men. And men are quick to remarry, in order to recreate the lifestyle that they had become used to. But given the degree to which your mother was dependent on your father, your theory certainly has merit."

"..."

"All the more reason why you should make every attempt to get closure, before it's too late."

"I don't even know if that's possible, at this point . "

"But you're still going to try."

"I think I'm going to try one more time to call her. And if she still refuses to discuss anything, I'll just...write up a letter and send it."

"Do you have any reason to believe that she'd be more receptive to a letter?"

"Maybe. Or maybe she'll just rip it up or throw it away. "

"Do you think that she would?"

"I don't know. I don't really have anything to base it on. I can count on one hand the number of times I've actually written to her in my lifetime. I think the last time was when I was a sophomore in college. And generally those were rather quaint and superficial."

"Even if she isn't receptive to the letter, I think the experience of writing it would be therapeutic for you. Whether she chooses to deal with these things or not, perhaps this would be a good opportunity to release some of that emotional baggage you've been lugging around for the past thirty years."

"..."

"You're going home o n Sunday. Are you planning to call her back before then?"

"I thought I'd give her a few days to cool down. So maybe...Friday evening, after dinner?"

"Please be sure to let me know how it went."

"..."

"And I must say, I'm rather proud of how well you're handling all of this. "

"Handling what?"

"Well in light of everything that's going on in your life right now, both physically and emotionally, I think you're functioning rather well."

"Oh...well, thank you."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Thank you for saying _thank you_."

"What do you mean?"

"Usually when I give you a compliment, you deflect."

"So?"

"So...saying _thank you _means acknowledging the fact that you might be worthy of praise."

"..."

"Because you definitely _are_ worthy of praise, Greg. What's important is that you've begun to believe it."

"Ah."

"And I can see that you're uncomfortable now. So I'll just...stop drawing attention to your progress."

"I appreciate that."


	38. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 26

_House gets an unpleasant surprise._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"Hmm."

"What?"

"What's your mother's first name?"

"Why would you need to know that?"

"I'm just curious."

"My mother's name is Blythe."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I don't know how to say this exactly, and I certainly don't want to cause you any undue alarm. But the front desk downstairs just called me."

"Called to tell you what?"

"It seems that your mother is here."

"_My_ mother?"

"Apparently."

"It's got to be some sort of mistake."

"They say it's not."

"It _has_ to be."

"I take it you weren't expecting her?"

"Are you kidding me? I wasn't even going to call her back until tomorrow."

"So this is a surprise visit?"

"Generally the word _surprise_ implies something that has the potential to be enjoyable."

"Right."

"And just in case it wasn't obvious, I don't want to see her."

"Greg, she's _here_."

"So what?"

"I don't just mean _in_ the building. I mean here, as in on this floor, as in right outside in the waiting area."

"I don't care. I don't want to talk to her."

"You can't avoid her indefinitely."

"Actually I can. She's not going to live forever."

"That would be a good argument, if she were say...five hundred miles away and not _right outside _in the waiting area."

"Does those windows open from the inside?"

"You planning on making some sort of escape?"

"How far of a drop do you think that is...thirty, forty feet?"

"You are _not_ jumping out the window, Greg."

"Come on. There are bushes down there, and they're pretty thick. What's the worst that could happen, I break a leg? I break _both_ legs? It'll heal...eventually."

"This is _not_ a solution."

"Sure it is. It's just not a pleasant one. The fact is, I'd rather be in a body cast than talk to my mother right now."

"I'd rather you not be in a body cast at all, if I can help it."

"Don't you think it should be my choice what I do with my body?"

"Yes, I do. But as a doctor, you know that concept does not apply to people who are a danger to themselves. I think willingly jumping out of a window qualifies as self harm."

"..."

"Look...I realize that you're apprehensive, and I fully understand why you would be. But you need to deal with this. It isn't going to go away, just because you refuse to face it."

"Do I _have_ to talk to her?"

"You don't _have_ to talk to anyone."

"Can you _make_ me talk to her?"

"You know that I can't."

"Good. Then it's settled. I'm not talking to her."

"But I think you need to recognize the possibility that if your mother went to the trouble to come all this way, she must care for you on some level."

"Yeah...that would make perfect sense, if we were dealing with a normal person here. Except we're not. Trust me, that's not why she's here."

"Then…why do you think she _is_ here?"

"She can't handle the idea of me discussing her with a _total stranger_."

"What _total stranger_?"

"Who do you think?"

"You mean _me_?"

"It's just killing her that you know about all of our family's dirty laundry. Which is sort of paradoxical if you think about it, since she continues to deny its existence."

"She told you that?"

"Eh...In so many words."

"What did she say _exactly_?"

"She's concerned that I've been misleading you."

"Misleading me how?"

"She thinks that the only reason you'd be remotely sympathetic towards me is because I've convinced you of things that are not true. I assume she's here to set the record straight, tell you how difficult a child I was and what a wonderful mother she's been."

"And you fear that for some reason. Why?"

"I don't _fear_ it."

"But you're hoping to avoid it."

"..."

"Because you think it's possible that she'd be successful at manipulating me."

"..."

"You think you're going to lose my support, that I'm going to disregard everything we've discussed, once I've heard what she has to say?"

"…"

"Greg, I swear to you that is not going to happen. I believe the things that you tell me."

"Yeah, well maybe you shouldn't."

"I know you haven't always been one hundred percent honest with me. But most people in therapy aren't. My loyalty ultimately lies with you. _You _are my patient. There's nothing she could tell me that would compromise my opinion of you in any way."

"You don't know that."

"Just what is it that you think she's going to tell me?"

"I don't know."

"What are you hiding?"

"Nothing."

"Is there some terrible, horrible thing you've done that I don't know about?"

"I don't know."

"Either there is or there isn't."

"No."

"Then what's the problem?"

"No _problem_. I just don't want to see her."

"So we've established."

"Apparently not, since we're still arguing about it."

"This could be a wonderful opportunity."

"No, it couldn't."

"Yes, it really could."

"This isn't going to go how you think it will."

"So tell me how it _is_ going to go."

"She's going start by telling you what a difficult child I was, _challenging_ is the word she'll use. Then she'll tell you how hard she and my dad tried to control me, how ungrateful I've been for their valiant efforts, how I couldn't be bothered to call or visit them once I left home. Then she'll top it off with some really impressive waterworks, feign remorse and passive aggressively beg for my forgiveness."

"So you've said before. She puts on quite a show. Did she do this often, during your childhood?"

"Pretty much on a regular basis."

"Can you give me a for instance?"

"When we were staying with my grandparents, her father expressed some concerns regarding her parenting skills, or lack thereof."

"What kind of concerns?"

"I don't remember what his exact observation was or what it had to do with. I only remember that it led to my mother sobbing on the floor, saying what a terrible mother she was and how no one appreciated all of her sacrifices."

"What sacrifices do you think she was referring to?"

"I have no idea."

"And what happened after she did this?"

"My grandparents eventually consoled her and spent the next few hours trying to convince her that she was a good mother, even though they clearly had reasons to doubt it. "

"Interesting. So she was able to emotionally manipulate them?"

"Not always. But sometimes."

"..."

"I also think that was about the time she started taking the Valium."

"Do you think there might be a connection between those two things?"

"Maybe."

"Did you notice any changes in her behavior that would indicate the use of tranquilizers?"

"She was certainly calmer and quieter. She'd often seem stoned, apathetic to everything that was going on around her. My father would be carrying on about something, and it was like she was in a fog. Sometimes I'd have to say her name two, three times in order to get her attention."

"So her default position when dealing with things was to garner sympathy."

"Yes."

"Why do you think that is?"

"She hates confrontation. She's a people pleaser. She can't handle the idea of anyone being…upset or angry with her, even if they have valid reasons for being so."

"So she thinks that people can't possibly be angry or upset with her, if they feel sorry for her."

"I guess."

"She was always like this?"

"As long as _I've_ known her."

"Did your father ever express any sort of opinions about your mother's apparent sensitivity or erratic emotional states?"

"He used to use them against me."

"Use them against you_ how_?"

"By saying..._look what you've done. You've upset your mother_ or _how can you do this to your poor mother?_"

"It's interesting that he would phrase it that way. But did he ever imply that you'd upset _him_?"

"No. It was always about her, how _she_ felt, what _she_ wanted, that _she_ was disappointed in me. My dad...didn't emotionally invest himself in anything."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that perhaps he was using your mother as a proxy to express things he didn't otherwise feel comfortable expressing. It's easier for him to say that your mother was upset, then to admit that _he_ might be upset."

"I suppose that's possible."

"But you'd prefer to believe otherwise."

"No. I just...have a hard time believing otherwise."

"..."

"But that doesn't mean it can't be true."

"Was your father very protective of your mother?"

"Yes and no."

"Explain."

"Well he clearly didn't respect her or view her as an equal. He treated her like she was a child who couldn't think for herself, and sometimes like she was downright stupid. But I think he would have died before he'd let anything happen to her."

"How did that compare to his attitude towards you?"

"I guess it was about the same."

"That's...surprising. How so?"

"I mean, his behavior was contradictory. He'd call me an idiot, scream at me and put me down. But he wouldn't tolerate other people abusing me, physically or verbally."

"What other people?"

"Other kids, teachers...anyone. It was like he thought he'd cornered the market on treating me like crap. It was fine for him to do it, but nobody else could."

"That must have been very confusing."

"I haven't really thought about it all that much."

"Was there ever any point during which your father being protective of you was to your benefit?"

"I suppose."

"Tell me about that."

"He bailed me out of trouble on more than one occasion."

"What kind of trouble?"

"I think I may have told you this already."

"I seem to have forgotten. Refresh my memory."

"I almost got suspended for getting into a fist fight with a teacher."

"That's right. And how did your dad go about preventing that from happening?"

"I have no idea. I only know that he did. He went into the principal's office and left me sitting out in the hallway. Ten minutes later he came back out and told me we everything had been squared away."

"Then surely there must have been a part of you that appreciated your father's protectiveness, even if it was as selective as you say."

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Because it was never about me."

"Who do you think it was about?"

"It was about him."

"How so?"

"I was an embarrassment to him. His goal was to maintain a certain appearance, and I was thwarting him at every turn. He wasn't trying to keep me out of trouble because he cared about my well being. He just didn't want me making him look bad."

"I see. He actually _told_ you this?"

"Many times."

"And you don't think there was any part of him that genuinely cared about your well being?"

"If there was evidence of that, I never saw it."

"Is it possible that there _was_ evidence to that, and you were just blinded by your anger?"

"It's possible. But not likely."

"How would you rate your mother's intelligence?"

"Compared to what?"

"Compared to your own, let's say."

"She's...not an intellectual."

"So she's not unintelligent, just unsophisticated."

"My grandfather once told me that my mother had been planning to go to nursing school, before she married my father. She wanted to work for The American Red Cross."

"And I take it she never did."

"Nope."

"Did she go to college at all?"

"Not as far as I know."

"Did she ever express any regret about that?"

"If she did, she never mentioned it to me."

"Do you think that might have been one of the sacrifices she was referring to?"

"Maybe."

"Did she have any hobbies or interests? How did she spend her free time?"

"Well...she seemed to enjoy the usual domestic stuff...cooking, sewing and having a garden, if there was room for one wherever we happened to be living. She took a cake decorating class once, at some community center. She'd play bridge with the other military wives."

"..."

"Her life was fairly unexciting, outside of the frequent relocations. But I got the feeling that's exactly the way she wanted it."

"Perhaps that's _why_ she wanted it that way. I can't imagine that it wasn't stressful to have to keep moving around like that. I'm sure she was longing for some sort of stability."

"..."

"And she never worked?"

"She would sometimes give piano lessons to other kids who lived on base or in our neighborhood. But only when we had access to a piano."

"Did she teach you to play?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well she taught me to read music. But I more or less taught myself to play."

"How old were you when you learned to read music?"

"I think...six."

"That's rather remarkable."

"..."

"Did your mother ever express any opinion about your musical talent?"

"Not really. It was almost like she resented me for it."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because by the time I was ten, I had already surpassed her in skill. I wasn't just playing. I was composing. I think she wanted to be able to take credit for that somehow. But I was rather self sufficient from an early age. And while it had nothing to do with her at all, she seemed to interpret my being self taught as me not needing her."

"What else did you teach yourself to do?"

"Play guitar, play harmonica, juggle, ride a bike, swim, read , w r i t e and speak several foreign languages..."

"And instead of being proud of your accomplishments, she resented them."

"No, that's just it. She _was_ proud. I think she just . . . wanted to be the one who'd taught me."

"That's not an unreasonable thing for a parent to want."

"No, just unrealistic."

"How did you reach the conclusion that she felt you didn't_ need _her?"

"She'd flat out say so. She'd say things like _I guess you don't need me at all_ or _I guess I'll just be going, since it __looks like you've got things under control._ She'd always say it like it was something bad I'd done, like it was wrong of me to have figured something out for myself."

"I'm guessing that she was feeling inadequate and she projected that onto you, so that your not needing her was the result of a character flaw on your part and not hers."

"Yeah, that's about it."

"I'm curious, was it your father's decision that your mother not work?"

"I'm assuming so, although I never actually heard him speak of it."

"Did your parents argue much?"

"Very rarely. But I suspect it's possible that they just weren't doing it in front of me."

"How often would your father raise his voice?"

"Most of the time."

"Was he frequently angry?"

"No, that's just it. He wasn't angry. He was just loud. He had a tendency to very...enthusiastic."

"Enthusiastic about what?"

"About whatever he happened to be discussing at the moment."

"What sort of things would he discuss?"

"Politics mostly, military issues. He didn't tend to bother with things that didn't directly pertain to him."

"Would he discuss these things with your mother?"

"She was kind of naive in that regard. So she would mostly listen. She rarely had the confidence to interject. I think that's because, whenever she did, my dad had a way of making her regret it."

"So your dad was rather passionate about his work."

"Very much so."

"Did he ever yell _at_ your mother?"

"Not directly, not more than a handful of times."

"Did he yell at you much?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Like I said, he was hardly ever angry. But he had a commanding voice. Somehow he managed to be loud, to appear menacing, without implying any sort of emotional involvement."

"Do you think that emotional desensitization might have been the result of his military training?"

"Maybe. But I think a lot of it was just his personality."

"Did your mother have many relationships outside of the one with your father?"

"You mean romantic relationships?"

"I mean _any_ relationships."

"She had a lot of casual acquaintances. Whenever we moved she would make new friends fairly easily. She was personable and people liked her. But her relationships with people were usually superficial. I don't think she was ever really _close_ with anyone other than my father, if one would even consider them as being close."

"Do you think your mother and father's relationship was superficial?"

"I don't know. I think all marriages are superficial, to some extent. You can only tolerate being around someone for so long, before you start to lose your mind and want to strangle them. But when two people love each other, you can usually tell just by watching, by observing their body language and the way they interact."

"And what did you observe?"

"I honestly never saw any real chemistry between them."

"Because your mother had few quality relationships, I'm guessing she probably relied rather heavily on your father for companionship."

"She was rather dependent on him, yes."

"Did he ever express an opinion about her neediness?"

"No."

"Did he ever seem bothered by it?"

"Quite the opposite."

"How so?"

"I don't think he wanted her to have a life outside of him."

"Did you ever feel like your dad was trying to _prevent_ your mother from having a life outside of him?"

"Occasionally."

"Like how?"

"Like...he didn't care much for her family. I don't think they cared much for him either. But he alienated them as much as possible. And because we moved around so much, often from one country to another, my mother didn't see as much of them as she would have liked."

"So you think your father was actively trying to keep your mother from spending time with her family?"

"In a round-a-bout way."

"What about your mother's acquaintances? Did he attempt to alienate them as well?"

"He would often invent reasons to disapprove of the people with whom my mother chose to spend her time."

"What kind of reasons?"

"Everything from the cars they drove to the way they spelled their last names, to the way that they wore their hair. I remember this one time he ranted for hours about some woman, because she'd wore bright red lipstick in church. Apparently only prostitutes were allowed to do that."

"Were his reasons always so trivial?"

"Most of the time."

"And how would your mother react to this?"

"She would discontinue her relationship with anyone my father didn't like, sometimes immediately."

"Why do you think she was so compliant? Surely she must have disagreed with him, at least some of the time."

"Like I said, she doesn't like conflict."

"So she would frequently bend to your father's will, in order to eliminate any potential confrontation."

"More like always."

"Do you think she was afraid of him?"

"I don't know. But I think that if she were, she would never admit it."

"Did you ever feel like your father was trying to protect your mother from you?"

"Yes."

"Tell me about that."

"I can't really explain it. It's not...I don't have any concrete evidence. It was just a feeling. Maybe it was the way he phrased things. But it was like...I was intruding on their lives somehow, just by being there."

"So you never really felt like you belonged, that you were part of a _family unit_."

"Not really, no. More like the third wheel."

"How about your dad? What sort of relationships did he have?"

"He had one or two close friends. But he was alot like my mother in that respect. His friendships tended to be strictly casual and superficial. And he didn't go out of his way to spend a whole lot of free time with anyone of inferior rank."

"That was important to him, military status?"

"Very. But also...it would have been inappropriate for him to socialize with his subordinates."

"Did your father have any hobbies?"

"He liked to hunt, go to the shooting range, fish, play poker. He'd occasionally golf. He tended to become obsessed with home improvement projects. But he didn't really have any _official_ hobbies."

"I'm curious about something."

"Okay."

"Does your mother know that you're living with James?"

"Yes."

"And how does she know that?"

"I told her."

"Does she realize what that actually means?"

"I...seriously doubt it. But Wilson and I have lived together before, though. So I doubt it came as a shock to her, or that she'd be suspicious of the reason."

"Do you have any intention of sharing that information with her at some point?"

"Uh...no."

"Why?"

"Because...the chances of her _not_ disapproving are slim to none, and slim just left town."

"So?"

"So for once in my life, I'd prefer _not_ to feel guilty for enjoying something."

"You think she has the power to make you feel guilty?"

"She's probably the only person on the planet who does."

"What exactly would you be feeling guilty about?"

"I don't know."

"But you're certain that your mother would disapprove of your alternative lifestyle."

"..."

"What exactly do you think you mother's disapproval would be based on?"

"A combination of things...religious beliefs, cultural ignorance, societal influence and the fact that I've never married and therefore have failed to supply her with a daughter-in-law or a gaggle of grandchildren."

"Has she expressed any opinions about your apparent lack of romantic relationships?"

"I think she's brought it up during almost every conversation we've had in the last thirty years. She even tried to set me up a few times."

"How recent was that?"

"Not recent at all. It was fifteen years ago at least."

"Did you ever date any of the women your mother tried to set you up with?"

"A few. It never went very well."

"What would you do if your mother somehow found out about the nature of your relationship with James?"

"I guess that would depend on how she reacted."

"So there isn't at least some small part of you who is happy about your relationship with James, and who wants to experience the joy of sharing the news of that happiness with the other people in your life?"

"Well, sure. That would be great. But that's not reality."

"If you knew for sure that sharing that information with your mother would result in her supporting your relationship with James, would you do it?"

"I already know that it won't."

"..."

"And it's not like I need her approval anyway."

"That doesn't mean it wouldn't be nice to have it."

"..."

"Have you and James defined the parameters of your relationship?"

"Meaning what?"

"Like...how do you refer to one another...boyfriend, husband, domestic partner?"

"We don't."

"But if you had to call him something, what would it be?"

"_Wilson_."

"Are you planning on telling anyone besides me about your relationship with James?"

"I'm thinking not."

"Why?"

"Well...he seems reluctant to go public. I don't care either way. I wouldn't mind people knowing. But I don't want to push it, if it's only going to make him uncomfortable."

"Does it bother you that he might want to keep your relationship a secret?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because...it just doesn't."

"..."

"People like Wilson. _Everyone_ likes Wilson."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"He has an excellent professional reputation. I'm assuming he doesn't want to do anything that might compromise that."

"And you believe that your own professional reputation could withstand a beating."

"Wilson is thin skinned. He cracks under even the slightest pressure. If we outted ourselves, there would inevitably be some sort of backlash and he...wouldn't be able to handle it. He'd panic. And when Wilson panics, he pushes everyone away."

"So you think that if things got too heavy for him, he might arbitrarily choose to end your relationship?"

"I _know_ he would."

"Why?"

" Because he has before ."

"How many times has James a c t u a l l y attempted to end your relationship, as a result of some sort of stress that you caused?"

"Only twice. But that's two times too many."

"So you're hoping to spare him any potential stress, in order to ensure the longevity of your relationship."

"That's...one way to put it."

"And what about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Aren't you also affected by stress?"

"I don't give a crap what people think about me."

"That wasn't what I asked."

"..."

" A n d even if that were the case, i t doesn't mean it wouldn't be stressful."

"..."

"How would you feel about talking to your mother privately, maybe here in my office, instead of out there in the common area?"

"..."

"I could be present, if you like."

"Yeah...I don't know."

"I know you're scared. I know that you don't want to deal with this. But I think you're going to regret it if you don't."

"I think I'm going to regret it either way."

"You don't have to say or do anything that you don't want to, Greg. If she asks any questions that you're not comfortable answering, then don't answer. If you ask her anything that _she_ refuses to answer, don't push it. Just treat this like an ordinary social call."

"Yes, because I've had _so_ many of those in my lifetime."

"I just mean...I think this could work if you're willing to maintain certain boundaries."

"Easier said than done."

"Isn't everything?"

"..."

"So are you interested in doing this or not? She's been waiting out there for almost an hour now. I'm sure she's run out of magazines to read."

"..."

"Greg?"

"It's not going to work."

"Why not?"

"She's not going say anything with you in the room, nothing important anyway."

"You're certain?"

"Positive."

"Do you think she'd be more candid if I weren't present?"

"I don't think she's going to be _candid_ at all."

"My schedule is clear for the next eighty minutes or so. Perhaps the two of you could use my office to talk. And I could linger nearby, in case you needed me."

"Needed you for what?"

"Anything."

"That sounds...almost doable."

"You're sure? Because I don't want you to do this, unless you're absolutely sure."

"Yeah."

"Alright then. Terrific."

"..."

"What's wrong?"

"It's just...this is really weird."

"How so?"

"I mean...this is my mother we're talking about here."

"Yeah."

"Why the hell am I so nervous to talk to my own mother?"

"Because it matters."

"..."

"Because...we get nervous about things that matter."

"I don't."

"Well you do now."

"Wait a minute. Wait...I don't know if I can do this."

"Trust me, you can."

"I have no idea what you could possibly be basing that on."

"Knowledge and experience."

"..."

"Do you trust me?"

"It's not a matter of trust."

"But _do_ you trust me?"

"I don't know."

"..."

"You'll be right outside?"

"If that's what you want, yes."

"..."

"And if at any point you become uncomfortable, or if you feel yourself starting to get anxious, just get up, excuse yourself and walk out."

"Okay. "

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Let's get this over with."


	39. Confrontation

_Conversation between House and his mother. I had fun writing this._

* * *

**Confrontation**

"Hello, dear."

"Hello."

"..."

"Uh...why don't we go into Dr. Nolan's office?"

"Why? There are plenty of tables and chairs right here."

"Yeah...I'd rather not do this with an audience, if I can help it."

"Do what? All we're going to do is talk."

"Just humor me, okay?"

"Fine."

"..."

"So was that him?"

"Was _who_ him?"

"The man you...tell all your secrets to."

"That's a rather crude interpretation of psychotherapy."

"So you _do_ tell him things."

"It would kind of be a waste of time if I didn't. I mean, I suppose we could just stare at each other for an hour."

"Do you tell him things about me?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"I think I have the right to know if I'm being discussed."

"Not according to HIPAA, you don't."

"You mean other people do this, reveal their family's personal business to absolute strangers?"

"Please tell me you're joking. Do you get cable?"

"..."

"What are you doing here, Mom?"

"I guess I'm not really sure."

"Well, thanks for stopping by. I'd chat some more with you, but I don't want to miss arts and crafts."

"Just...wait a minute."

"For what?"

"I don't think you realize how much you upset me the other night."

"You took a two hour flight and a thirty minute cab ride, just to come and tell me that?"

"..."

"You could have saved yourself a lot of time and money. I kind of figured out you were upset when you hung up on me."

"I guess I didn't know what else to do."

"This might come as a bit of a shock to you. But it actually wasn't my intention to _upset_ you. It never has been."

"I know that, dear."

"No, I don't think you do."

"..."

"I just happen to think there are some things we need to talk about. You obviously disagree, which is fine. You're entitled to that. But it doesn't explain why you're here now."

"I never see you."

"And it took you thirty-two years to realize that?"

"Yes...no. I don't know. I just _needed _to see you. Is that so wrong?"

"It's not about _right_ or _wrong_."

"Can't a mother visit her son?"

"I guess that depends on what her motives are."

"I don't have any _motives_."

"Everyone has motives."

"Can't we just talk?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you will inevitably refuse to address any of the topics that _I _want to discuss. So as far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for you to even be here. You can leave."

"Greg, that's not fair."

"Since when have you ever cared what was _fair_?"

"I've been so lonely since John passed. I don't think you understand that."

"I understand just fine. Dad is gone. I'm fifty years old and you're _finally_ taking an interest in my life."

"..."

"I regret to inform you that you're a day late and a dollar short."

"..."

"Try getting out of the house every once in a while, interact with some other human beings for a change. Get a hobby, for God's sake. Buy a dog."

"You're hardly one to be criticizing antisocial behavior."

"Yeah...the difference is I'm not the one who's complaining about being lonely."

"I don't think you realize what you're asking of me here."

"I'm asking you to tell me the truth. It's _cruel_, I know. I'm sure you'll suffer greatly..."

"The truth is relative."

"You just keep telling yourself that, Mom. Whatever it takes to keep reality at bay."

"What do you want from me, Greg?"

"I want some answers."

"Answers to what?"

"Like...who was he?"

"Who was_ who_?"

"Who do you think?"

"..."

"Well?"

"Of course you'd start there."

"I'm sorry. Seemed like a fairly significant point to me. Where would _you_ like to start?"

"I don't want to fight with you, son."

"Oops...too late. You should have thought about that before you decided to pack your bags and fly over the cuckoo's nest, unannounced."

"Must you treat everything like a joke?"

"Must you continue to act surprised when I do?"

"..."

"So who was he?"

"I'm not having this conversation with you, Gregory."

"Then you can leave."

"That's not...I don't want to leave. Let's just talk. Can't we just talk, like normal people?"

"First of all, we're not_ normal_ people. I would have thought you'd have figured that out by now. And second, what exactly do you want to talk about...sports, the weather, the price of gasoline? It seems like you're reluctant to discuss anything that's remotely important. Why the hell would I even bother participating in that? Why bother talking at all?"

"Are you saying that you're incapable of being pleasant?"

"You're defining _pleasant_ as willfully avoiding any topics or experiences that might make anyone even slightly uncomfortable? Thanks, but no thanks."

"..."

"You had no business coming here like this. I don't even know how you figured out where I was. But I sure as hell don't remember giving you the name or address of the place."

"I called James."

"Of course you did."

"He told me where to find you."

"Remind me to kill him when I get back home."

"If it makes a difference, he was very reluctant to tell me anything."

"_You_ manipulated someone into doing something? Imagine that."

"Greg..."

"So you thought you'd just show up here and what, convince me to sweep all of my issues under the floorboards and pretend they don't exist? As you may have noticed, that hasn't worked out so well for you."

"..."

"I think I deserve to know who my father was."

"You already _know_ who your father was."

"I meant my _real _father."

"John was your _real_ father."

"Mom...I'm not an idiot. I know that he wasn't. And I know that _you_ know he wasn't. So what do you say we just drop this whole charade, huh? Because it's giving me a God damned headache."

"..."

"I did the math. He deployed several months before I would have been conceived."

"..."

"And then there's the fact that he had green eyes, you have hazel and I have blue, thus making it impossible for me to be biologically related to you both."

"..."

"You see, eye color is what we call a heterozygous trait. What that means is, in order for me to have blue eyes, at least one of my parents would have to be carrying that particular allelle."

"..."

"And in order to lay to rest any lingering doubts, I took a DNA sample at the funeral and ran the tests myself."

"Oh my dear God."

"..."

"I suspected as much. I mean, I thought _maybe_...I didn't think you'd actually go through with it. Whoever would _do_ such a thing?"

"I'm going out on a limb here. But I'd say...people who want to know for sure who their biological father is?"

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone?"

"You really think things were _well enough_?"

"What I mean is, John was your father in every way that mattered."

"Yeah, except for the _not being biologically related to me _part."

"Why is that so important?"

"The question is, how can you possibly think that it_ isn't_?"

"..."

"It matters to me, Mom. It matters. I mean...at the very least, I'd like to know the man's medical history. What nationality was he? What did he do for a living? Did he ever spend time in prison? Did he vote Republican? Did he like The Stones? How did he feel about free agency?"

"And you think that information will bring you some sort of comfort?"

"You think it won't?"

"You always wanted to know _everything_."

"What is_ that _supposed to mean?"

"You always asked so many questions. I mean, children ask questions. That's to be expected. But for you...it was far, far beyond normal childhood curiosity. It was...I used to wonder if you'd ever reach a point where you didn't need to know any more. You were insatiable."

"Mom…"

"I know you think…"

"No, you _don't_."

"..."

"Don't you dare say that. You have no _idea_ what I think. You never have."

"Fair enough. But I do know _you_. And I know you won't be satisfied. Knowing these things...it won't change anything. It will only lead to more questions, none of which have easy answers."

"And you don't think I can handle that?"

"..."

"Why can't you just tell me who he was? I mean, what will you be losing? What the hell will you be giving up if you tell me?"

"..."

"Did I ever meet him?"

"..."

"Did he ever _see_ me?"

"He…never even knew that you existed."

"Why not?"

"Why do you think?"

"So it was just a one night stand?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what the hell was it?"

"This isn't the sort of thing a woman discusses with her son, Greg."

"Then allow me rephrase it in more politically correct terms. How long were you and this guy washing each other's windows?"

"Oh, for God's sake..."

"..."

"Off and on for about five months."

"And you didn't stay in touch?"

"Not directly, no. His sister Gladys would write me letters on occasion, letting me know how he and the rest of their family was doing. But that wasn't because of him. She and I had been friends since elementary school."

"Did _she_ know about the affair?"

"She may have suspected. But I don't think she knew. Unless he told her, which I can't imagine he would have."

"Is he still alive?"

"No."

"When did he die?"

"He passed away in…ninety-four, I think. But he was roughly ten years older than me. So he'd be about eighty-two years old if he were still living."

"How did you find out about his death?"

"Gladys called to tell me."

"What did he die from?"

"I don't remember."

"Try."

"There was a…I think you call it blood clot, in his lungs."

"A pulmonary embolism?"

"If that's the correct term, yes."

"Did they figure out what caused it?"

"I have no idea."

"Was he a smoker?"

"Everyone smoked back then, Greg."

"Is that a _yes_?"

"I have no idea whether or not he smoked. It's possible that he did. Why does it matter?"

"Because it would mean that his pulmonary embolism might _not_ have been caused by an underlying physiology."

"I don't even know what that means."

"It means there might have been something wrong with him, some sort of vascular abnormality, something that he could have passed on to me."

"As far as I know, he was in good health, right up until he died."

"But you _don't_ know, do you?"

"Why is this so important?"

"..."

"Are you sick?"

"..."

"Is that why you're really here? Are they treating you for something?"

"I haven't been _well_ in a long time, Mom. I think it's possible that...I've never been."

"I don't understand. What does that mean?"

"It's complicated."

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing that you can fix."

"So there _is_ something wrong?"

"Like I said, it's nothing you could fix."

"Are you dying?"

"Everyone's dying. We start dying the second we're born. The second we're conceived, our cells begin to multiply and break down..."

"Greg..."

"I'm not dying, Mom, at least no more than anyone else. And that's about all I feel comfortable sharing with you at the moment."

"So you want _me_ to air all of my dirty laundry. But you can't answer one simple question about your health?"

"Stop trying to change the subject."

"My son might be sick, possibly even dying. I don't have the right to be concerned?"

"Of course you do. But I'm not obligated to indulge you."

"Would you even tell me? Would you tell me if you were dying? Or would it be like every other time you've been sick or injured, when you didn't feel the need to inform me until _after_ the fact? Because I'm not sure I can weather another loss of that magnitude."

"I would tell you if I were dying, Mom."

"I wish I could believe you."

"So do I. "

"..."

"And that's all I'm going to say about it for now."

"I guess I'll just have to make do with that then."

"I guess you will."

"..."

"So tell me more about this guy."

"What do you want to know?"

"Do I have any siblings?"

"Not that I know of."

"So...is that a _maybe_?"

"No. He and his wife never had any children. They tried, I think. But she just couldn't."

"What did he do for a living?"

"He was a pilot, just like your father. But when his tour was up, he moved to Las Vegas and got a job working for a commercial airline."

"What kind of person was he?"

"He was a good man."

"More specifically."

"He was...caring, compassionate, highly intelligent, musically gifted, and had a great sense of humor."

"And you chose Dad over _that_?"

"What an awful thing to say, Greg."

"It's a reasonable question."

"No, it isn't."

"What was his name?"

"His name was David. "

"Did he have a last name?"

"Pulaski...David Pulaski."

"Sounds Polish."

"I believe he was Polish, yes. "

"..."

"His parents were Jewish. But I don't think he was practicing."

"Why not?"

"Why not _what_?"

"Why would you think that he wasn't practicing?"

"Because he and sister used to order their pizza with sausage and pepperoni."

"Lots of Jews don't keep Kosher, Mom."

"Well...whatever."

"Did you love him?"

"That's a...complicated question."

"No it's not. You either loved him or you didn't."

"At the time, yes. I think I did."

"Did you ever consider leaving Dad to be with him?"

"I'm sure it crossed my mind at some point."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because that would have been wrong, Greg."

"More wrong than having an affair, getting pregnant, and forcing your husband to raise someone else's kid?"

"Nobody _forced_ anyone to do anything."

"..."

"I was very young, dear. I don't think you realize that. I was only seventeen when I met your father, barely nineteen when we got married, twenty-two when you were born."

"And that's supposed to absolve you somehow? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?"

"It's not about absolution, and no...I don't expect your sympathy. I'm just saying, I was very young, maybe even too young to be married, to start a family."

"And yet, that didn't stop you."

"No, I guess it didn't."

"Did you love Dad?"

"I don't know how you can even ask such a thing."

"That's not an answer, Mom."

"Yes. Of course I loved him. You need me to tell you that?"

"Then...why'd you do it?"

"..."

"Why'd you cheat on him?"

"Well now, that's just not something a son asks his mother."

"You think that's going to stop me from inquiring?"

"No. I know it won't. The problem is...you think everything has an explanation."

"Everything _does_ have an explanation."

"You think everything can be figured out, if you just push hard enough, if you can just get the right information. You can't seem to accept the fact that...some things just _are_."

"I think it's my business how I came into existence."

"It was fifty years ago, Greg. And I've hardly even thought about it since then."

"Why not?"

"Because there's no sense in dwelling on things that can't be changed."

"Did you go to his funeral?"

"No, I did not."

"Why?"

"Given the circumstances, I thought it would be awkward for John."

"Where was he buried?"

"A few miles west of Charleston, South Carolina. Can't remember the name of the town. I could probably find out."

"Have you ever even visited his grave?"

"No."

"So Dad knew about the affair?"

"Of course. He wasn't a fool. He'd been gone four months by the time I conceived you."

"I can't imagine he reacted very well to that news."

"He was upset...at first. But we worked past it."

"Buried it and forgot about it, you mean."

"I'm not sure I understand the difference."

"No, I don't think you do."

"So...Dad knew that you'd had the affair. But did he know who you had it with?"

"Yes."

"And he didn't make some attempt to kick this guy's ass?"

"I'm sure he contemplated it at some point. But he never acted on it."

"..."

"I know what you're going to ask."

"I seriously doubt it."

"What you should know is that despite the circumstances of your conception, John was very excited about your birth. He was so pleased to be having a boy. His name was listed on the birth certificate. He put it there himself. It was _his_ decision to claim you as his own. I didn't influence or coerce him in any way."

"I'll bet."

"We decided together that we were simply going to tell friends and family that John was your biological father. We didn't see any reason for people to know the truth. And once you were born, we agreed not to speak of it."

"I guess the novelty of raising someone else's kid must have worn off pretty quickly then, if the years that followed were any indication."

"I can see why you might believe that."

"But you think I'm wrong, of course."

"John was...very rough on the outside. He was a very complicated man, just as you've become. He didn't have very pleasant beginnings and he was very bitter about a great many things. I think...the two of you were much more alike than you would like to believe."

"..."

" Whether you want to accept it or not, I can assure you that he loved you very much."

"I think your definition of _love_ probably differs drastically from mine."

"Yes, I suppose it might."

"..."

"Oh Greg…I wish I could make you understand."

"So enlighten me."

"John wanted nothing more than to be your father, your _real_ father. He wanted you to accept him as such, for you to never know that you weren't biologically related. He thought for sure that you'd figure it out somehow, that you'd discover your true paternity and that you'd never look at him the same way again."

"He was right."

"When you got to be about twelve or so, you started to rebel, started getting into a whole lot of trouble. Somehow you'd suspected that he might not be your real father and that created a wedge between you. Up until that point, your goal was to be a Marine pilot, just like him. God...for a while it was all you talked about. But when it became clear that you had no intention of following in his footsteps, he took that as a sign that he'd failed somehow, that he'd failed to connect with you and make you his."

"And he _told_ you this?"

"In the weeks before he died, yes."

"..."

"I'm sure he would have told you himself, if you'd have given him the opportunity. But you never returned any of his calls, not a single one."

"..."

"And for that, you only have yourself to blame."

"He never made any effort to have a relationship with me, not during my entire lifetime, not really. But as soon as he realized that he was dying, he was all about wanting to make peace. And I was supposed to just roll over and do stupid pet tricks?"

"No...you had a choice to make and you made it."

"That's right, I did. Because he was doing it to make himself feel better, not to make _me_ feel better. And you know it."

"If that's what you want to believe."

"..."

"He knew that you wouldn't come, that you wouldn't want to see him. He didn't hold it against you. That's why he wrote you that letter."

"Yeah."

"..."

"What else did he say about me?"

"He had a lot of regrets, things he thought could have gone better, things he...wished he had a chance to do over."

"Like what?"

"Well…he wasn't _too_ specific."

"How convenient for him."

"I just think that some things hurt too much to talk about."

"What things?"

"..."

"Wait...you mean _him_?"

"..."

"You think _he_ was hurting? Why the hell would _he_ be hurting?"

"..."

"_He_ hurt _me_, Mom. Not the other way around."

"Yes."

"_Yes_?"

"That's what he told me."

"He _did_?"

"I honestly didn't believe it at first. I mean, I knew John could be...but I couldn't even imagine it."

"Seriously? Are you sure we're talking about the same man?"

"If I'd known, maybe I could have done something…but I honestly had no idea."

"How the hell could you _not_ know?"

"He was a fair man, Greg. He worked hard and he was good to you, good to me. You need to acknowledge that."

"And you need to acknowledge that sometimes he wasn't."

"I trusted him to do the right thing, to guide and discipline you. I think he did a fine job, considering how difficult you insisted on making things."

"But he'd do things that I know you didn't agree with, that you couldn't _possibly _agree with. You never questioned him. You never challenged him. You never stepped forward. You never intervened."

"I didn't know you _needed_ me to intervene."

"Oh _bullshit_."

"Gregory..."

"How the hell could you_ not _know? The friction between us, and all the constant shouting matches weren't enough of a tip off? The tension was so thick, that you could practically cut it with a knife."

"You act as though you played no part in that. It takes two, Greg."

"He was a grown man, Mom. I was just a kid."

"During my generation, women knew their place, their role in the home. And part of that role was trusting in the authority of their husbands, not to question his decisions."

"Even if they were wrong? "

"Yes."

"Forgive me, but that's about the most ass backwards thing I've ever heard."

"He did the best he could for you, Greg. I'm sorry that it wasn't enough."

"What does that even mean,_ the best_? How do you know he did his _best_?"

"I just know."

"God...I'm so tired of this."

"Tired of what?"

"The lying, the…avoidance, this elephant in the room. We all know it's there. But we're supposed to pretend that it's not. It's exhausting. It's sucking me dry."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"How could you not know what he was doing to me? You were always home. You were _right there _the whole time."

"What do you want me to say, Greg? I'm not going to tell you I was aware of something, if I wasn't."

"Yeah, well...I guess Valium _does_ have a way of rendering people completely apathetic to their surroundings."

"What?"

"Oh, skip it. It's not like you'd own up to it anyway. God forbid an upstanding military housewife such as yourself have vices or addictions."

"I wasn't _addicted_ to anything."

"I hate to break it to you, Mom. But anyone who takes Valium over an extended period of time is _addicted_. It's a schedule four narcotic."

"I had a prescription and I always took the recommended dose."

"Yeah...I'm intimately familiar with _that_ rationalization. Trust me, it doesn't mean dick."

"I was under a great deal of stress, Greg."

"Well by all means, get stoned beyond comprehension and stand idly by while your husband abuses your illegitimate son."

"That's how we handled things in those days. We didn't know everything that we know now. People didn't talk about things. They didn't even know that they were _supposed_ to be talking about things."

"..."

"And I'd hardly say you were _abused_ or _illegitimate._ Why do you always have to be so dramatic?"

"I'm sorry. Would you prefer the word _bastard_? It is more catchy."

"Your father did his best to discipline you, to try and keep you out of trouble. And I'm sure there were occasions where he took it a little further than he should have. But your constant refusal to tow the line made his job way more difficult than it needed to be."

"Yeah? And did _Dad_ know about your prescription for _mother's little helper_?"

"No, he did not."

"Why not?"

"..."

"You don't think he had the right to know? What happened to _knowing your place _in the home? How did you justify deceiving your husband like that?"

"He wouldn't have understood. He would have thought it had something to do with our marriage."

"You mean it didn't?"

"He'd have blamed himself, thought it was his fault for not making me happy."

"Yeah...except that it actually _was_ his fault that he couldn't make you happy."

"He wasn't responsible for my unhappiness, Greg."

"So let me get this straight. It was okay for you to make ethical compromises in order to benefit you and Dad, but not in order to benefit me."

"It's not that simple."

"I think it is."

"..."

"I mean, Dad apparently recovered from the fact that you stepped out on him, _and_ became impregnated with someone else's child, in a matter of months. You think he'd balk at you taking a drug for which you had a prescription?"

"Why must you pick everything apart?"

"I'm just trying to understand your reasoning. Because from where I'm sitting, it's not making a whole lot of sense."

"..."

"You're telling me that at no point did you question any of the decisions Dad made, as a husband, as a parent, as a human being?"

"Of course I questioned them. But I knew it was best for me to keep such opinions to myself."

"Why?"

"Out of respect, dear."

"_That's _how you define respect, blindly following someone despite an arsenal of perfectly valid reservations? How could you respect a man whose behavior was questionable?"

"I didn't say his behavior was _questionable_. I said that there were things he said and did that I found myself at odds with."

"Which things?"

"That's not important."

"Oh, I think it is."

"Well...I wasn't thrilled about having to move all the time. But was under the impression that you knew that already."

"Then why didn't you do something about it?"

"Like what, for instance?"

"Why didn't you tell Dad that you wanted to stay put?"

"John's career was very important to him."

"Yeah? And what about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"What was important to you?"

"Being the best wife and mother that I could possibly be."

"That's _all _you wanted out of life? "

"..."

"And do you think you succeeded?"

"Yes."

"..."

"But I'm sure you'll disagree."

"That's right. I do."

"Wonderful."

"Did you ever at least _slightly_ disagree with Dad's disciplinary methods?"

"Sometimes."

"Then why the hell didn't you intervene?"

"Because I honestly believed that he knew what was best for you."

"What were you basing that on, his blatant hostility, his penchant for violence or his complete lack of experience with children?"

"Oh, stop."

"I was never happy, Mom. I was never happy. I'm _still_ not happy."

"And you think you can blame that on your father, on me?"

"..."

"Greg...you were a melancholy little thing, moody, sensitive, brilliant...but your ego was bruised so easily. You always took things so hard. You cannot blame your father for who you are, or who you've become."

"You really don't see anything wrong with what he did to me."

"It seems you have a selective memory. You were hardly innocent."

"I never said I was_ innocent_."

"Well, you sure have a rather one-sided view of things."

"So you're saying I deserved to be mistreated, because I was a pain in the ass."

"I never said you were a _pain in the ass, _and you weren't _mistreated."_

"I beg to differ."

"I just mean...John did the best he could to control you, to guide you...and you didn't make it easy."

"I wasn't aware that parenting was supposed to be _easy_."

"This is wearing me out."

"Yeah? Join the club."

"I barely hear from you for thirty years and now you're demanding that I...I don't know. I just...I can't handle this, Greg."

"Hey, you came to me. I didn't come to you."

"I know. You're right...I know."

"Maybe you should pop a few Valium to take the edge off."

"I cannot believe the things that are coming out of your mouth lately. Your father would never have tolerated you speaking to me this way."

"Then I guess it's a damn shame that he's dead, huh?"

"Why do you feel the need to say such hurtful things?"

"Because I learned from the best."

"..."

"You know what, Mom? I never asked anything of you or Dad. Since the day I moved out of your house, I never asked you for a damn thing. I never asked you for money or any sort of help. God knows you didn't contribute one cent to my college eduation..."

"We didn't have any money to _give_ you, dear. I thought you understood that."

"Any little bit would have helped. Just the gesture would have been appreciated._ Anything_ resembling support would have been appreciated."

"You never asked."

"You_ needed _me to ask? You _needed_ me to tell you that a college education costs money?"

"..."

"I spent the first year of undergrad sleeping on the floor of some dude's apartment, and living off of cherry Kool-Aid and Top Ramen."

"..."

"And you never even implied that you were remotely interested in my professional endeavors. You didn't seem to have an opinion about them at all. When I called to tell you that I'd gotten into medical school, you acted like it was some triviality that I was pestering you with. And then after all that, you have the gall to wonder why I didn't bother trying to have a relationship with you."

"I've always been very proud of your accomplishments, Greg."

"Which ones, Mom?"

"All of them."

" Y e a h ? Name one."

"From what I understand, you're an excellent doctor."

"How would you even know? I can count on one hand the number of times you've even visited me at my place of employment."

"I follow you."

"Follow me _where_?"

"I have a scrapbook...and in it is every newspaper and magazine article that's ever mentioned you, over the last twenty-five years."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Well that's _so_ much more effective than just telling me to my face."

"I honestly didn't know you needed to hear these things."

"How, Mom? How could you _not_ know? Who the hell _doesn't_ want some confirmation that they're succeeding at life, from their own parents no less?"

"I didn't think it would matter."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you always seemed indifferent to my opinion. I figured it would be a waste of breath."

"Right...right. Well you know what? Forget it. It's fine . What's done is done. The point is...I've expected very little from you, during my adult life. I barely expected anything from you when I was a child. The least you can do is sacrifice an hour or so of your precious time to discuss these important things with me."

"Even at my own expense?"

"You're suffering _that _much, are you? It causes you _that_ much pain to have to tell your son the truth about his own biological origin?"

"It's not about truth, Greg. And it's not about time. It's about my right to privacy."

"If you had an affair, if you cheated on Dad, I wouldn't give a shit. It would be none of my business. I mean, when your husband is overseas for months at a time, stuff like that is going to happen, and I'm definitely not judging you for it. Frankly I don't blame you for wanting to cheat on the man. But _this_ particular affair resulted in the creation of me. That kind of makes it my business. Don't you think?"

"..."

"Doesn't it?"

"Just what is it that you think you need to know so badly?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"And you want the truth?"

"Yes."

"The truth is that I don't know. Now how is telling you that supposed to be helpful?"

"So you didn't have a reason?"

"Not a very good one."

"I didn't ask if you had a _good_ reason. I asked if you had a reason."

"I wasn't...right before John was deployed, we were quarreling."

"What about?"

"I don't even remember, our living situation I think. Or it could have been money. But the point is, he left without resolving the matter. I was all alone, living on a base for the first time. I had the house all to myself and I was very lonely. David was...he paid attention to me, made me feel like I was worth being around."

"And Dad never did that for you?"

"Of course he did...sometimes."

"But not _all _the time."

"I don't think anyone can do that _all the time_."

"..."

"I used to think your father...what I realize now is that there were just some things he wasn't capable of."

"And that didn't bother you?"

"Of course it bothered me."

"Then why not leave him? Why not leave him and find someone else, someone who _was_ capable? I mean, you're nice enough. You're...pretty. You probably could have had anyone you wanted."

"I did have whoever I wanted, Greg. I wanted John."

"Why?"

"I loved John. When you love someone, you tend to become blind to their flaws. He was never the type to dote and romance. But he had other ways of expressing his affections."

"Please don't tell me what they were."

"It wasn't like that."

"Oh good."

"So...Is that all you wanted to know?"

"I guess...for now."

"Are you getting out of here any time soon?"

"In four days."

"Do you think maybe you'd be up to coming for a visit?"

"I don't know, Mom. I d o n ' t k n o w ."

"..."

" This is...it's a lot to digest. I need to think about it, process it, figure some stuff out."

"I could make up the guest bedroom for you. I t ' s n o p r o b l e m ."

"..."

"And you could bring James along."

"I thought your guest bedroom only had one bed."

"Well...he could always sleep on the couch."

"..."

"But it's a queen sized mattress. I'm sure you could share it. "

" O h y e a h ? "

" I know how unseparable you two are."

"..."

"What?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Say what?"

"That Wilson and I are_ unseparable_."

"Well you live together, right?"

"Yeah..."

"And you've worked together for God knows how many years, and it sounds like you spend most of your free time together. I'm assuming that denotes _some_ degree of personal attachment."

"..."

"But you weren't ever planning to say anything to me about it."

"Say anything to you about what?"

"I know you think I'm simple minded, Greg. And maybe I am. But I'm not a complete idiot."

"Okay...I'll bite. What the hell are you talking about?"

"If it means anything, dear, I think the two of you look kind of cute together."

"..."

"Oh, don't look so shocked."

"This...isn't shock. This is mortification."

"You're attractive, intelligent, successful and well employed. I knew there had to be a reason why you were still single at the age of fifty."

"How the hell did you even figure it out?"

"A mother knows these things."

"But _I_ didn't even know."

"You didn't?"

"This isn't...this is a recent thing, Mom. Wilson and I haven't...I mean we _have_, several times in fact. Okay...too much information. But we didn't...this was only recently, like four and a half months ago."

"I always felt like there was something going on between you."

"Any special reason why you didn't feel compelled to share that observation with me?"

"I just assumed you knew. I assumed you knew that_ I_ knew. I assumed that you were only secretive about it because you suspected that your father wouldn't approve."

"And you _do _approve?"

"Well...I wouldn't have minded having some grandchildren. But I came to terms with that a long time ago. James is a good man, and more importantly, he's good for you."

"Huh."

"What?"

"I never intended for you to find out. But this is hardly the reaction I was expecting."

"What exactly _were_ you expecting?"

"I...don't even know. Just not this."

"So do you think James would be up for a visit?"

"I guess I'll have to ask him."

"..."

"Uh...I think we'd better wrap this up."

"Why?"

"Nolan's going to be needing his office back in a few minutes."

"Oh, of course.

"..."

"Is it alright if I call you? I mean, when you get out of here."

"I don't know."

"Alright then."

"Maybe just...let me call you."

"Fair enough."

"Mom?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks."

"For coming?"

"No, for telling me the truth."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"That I didn't do it sooner."


	40. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 27

I've decided to start writing whatever I want, instead of what I think people might want to read.

Because that's how I roll.

I'm making some other changes as well.

PLEASE READ THE UPDATE IN MY PROFILE, IF YOU ARE PLANNING ON FOLLOWING THIS STORY OR ANY OF MY OTHER WORK.

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"You look tense, Greg."

"I'm fine."

"Well, you could have fooled me."

"I skipped my morning coffee."

"And yet you look like you want to grab that chair over there and throw it out the window."

"And reduce myself to a cliche? Pshaw. "

"So what happened?"

"I already told you, _coffee_."

"Okay."

"_Okay?_ And you're just going to let it go? I think I'm offended."

"You do realize that I know you're lying, right?"

"Yes."

"Wouldn't it be less painful to do away with this whole song and dance and just _tell _me what's wrong?"

"_Less painful_? No."

"Alright, less complicated then."

"It wouldn't be less complicated either."

"Greg...you're here to talk about your problems. So let's _talk _about your problems."

"But isn't it more fun this way?"

"Are you having fun right now?"

"Not particularly."

"Then it seems you've answered your own question."

"..."

"So you want me to _guess_ what's wrong. How should we do this, charades, hangman...Pictionary? I have some inkblots you could look at."

"He cheated."

"Who cheated?"

"Who do you think?"

"Is this merely speculative, or do you have some actual evidence?"

"Let's say...both."

"Okay."

"He didn't come home last night."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"Ordinarily it wouldn't. But he crept in at about four o'clock this morning."

"_Crept? _Why would you use that particular word?"

"I could hear him sneaking around, trying not to wake me."

"I see. _Did_ he wake you?"

"No."

"Then how did you know he was _sneaking_ around?"

"I never went to sleep."

"You must be exhausted."

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are."

"..."

"Just for the record, are you ever _not_ fine?"

"I just meant...I'm used to it. I've been an insomniac for twenty-five years."

"Your body is still affected by sleep deprivation, whether you've grown accustomed to it or not."

"..."

"Okay. But your assumption is that if James felt some need to be inconspicuous, he must be hiding something. And that something could only be sexual in nature."

"Well it sounds all stupid when you phrase it like _that_."

"But you're _sure_ that he cheated?"

"Yes."

"What did he do when he came home this morning, at four o'clock?"

"He took a shower, changed his clothes, grabbed a granola bar and then left again...I assume to go into work early."

"Why would you assume that?"

"He's trying to get some of his patients into a drug trial, and the paperwork is due today."

"Hmm. Might that also be a valid explanation for why he was out so late last night?"

"..."

"Right. And what gave you the impression that he was hoping not to wake you?"

"I left the bedroom door ajar, when I went to bed the night before."

"Why would you do that?"

"I wanted to be able to hear him when he came home."

"So?"

"So he very quietly tip-toed into the hallway to shut the bedroom door, _before_ going about his business. And then he showered in the guest bathroom, which he never does."

"I take it the guest bathroom is farther from your bedroom than the one he normally uses."

"Yes."

"And you think he took these steps in order to avoid a potential confrontation."

"Yes."

"You don't think it's possible he was under the impression that you were sleeping and was just trying to be considerate?"

"...

"And where was he last night? Did he say?"

"He claimed that he fell asleep in his office."

"_Claimed_...so you think he was lying?"

"I _know_ he was. Well he _was_ in his office, actually. He just wasn't sleeping."

"And how do you know that?"

"When he was in the shower, I got out of bed and dug his clothing out of the hamper."

"Why would you do that?"

"I wanted to smell them."

"Smell them for what?"

"To see if I could tell where he'd been."

"And did you smell anything...significant?"

"Nope. "

"Then how did you reach the conclusion that he'd cheated?"

"There was a stain on the lapel of his shirt."

"What kind of stain?"

"A lipstick stain."

"And...is there any possibility that the stain was made from something _other_ than lipstick?"

"Possible, but not likely."

"Why? "

"The stain was pink and...lip shaped."

"Did you approach him about this?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"This morning, in his office."

"Did he deny it?"

"At first."

"What changed his mind?"

"I presented him with the evidence."

"And then he confessed immediately?"

"Yep."

"Huh."

"I almost wish he hadn't."

"Ignorance is bliss?"

"So they say."

"..."

"He said he was planning on telling me eventually. But that doesn't explain why his immediate instinct was to lie."

"Perhaps he was hoping to address it with you in his own timing."

"..."

"And how do you feel about this?"

"I don't know."

"Think about it."

"It's not like...I don't know. He says they didn't have _actual_ sex."

"Then what _did_ they do?"

"She apparently...you know, went down on him."

"Ah. Well I regret to inform you that regardless of what former President Clinton would like us to believe, oral sex is most definitely_ sex_."

"Yeah."

"Which as a doctor, you already know. So I can only assume you're hoping to minimize this event in your mind, in order to make it into something less than it really was."

"No."

"No?"

"I just...I don't want to know about this stuff."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean I don't want to know about it. I...don't want to speculate about his reasons. I don't want to speculate about whether or not this was the first time or whether or not it will be the last. I don't want to speculate about what else he might be hiding from me."

"Do you have reason to _believe_ he might be hiding something else from you?"

"Wilson...always told his wives when he cheated on them, _always_. And he generally went to great lengths to make it up to them. But he never bothered trying to hide it, at least not for very long."

"Okay."

"I've got no reason to believe he'd treat me any differently than he's treated his wives or girlfriends. But that doesn't mean he won't."

"So you wouldn't care if he cheated on you, as long as you didn't have to know about it."

"..."

"Why?"

"Because I can't care about something I don't know about."

"Are you planning on breaking up with him?"

"No."

"Is he planning on breaking up with you?"

"Apparently not."

"Is there any chance that he might hook up with this woman again?"

"He says he has no intention of doing so."

"And you believe him."

"I don't know what to believe."

"But you don't care."

"I care. Just...not enough to actually do anything about it."

"Who was she? Did he say?"

"Nope."

"And you didn't demand to know?"

"He said that the person's identity was irrelevant. He said that...nothing good would come of me knowing who it was."

"And you think he's right? Willful ignorance doesn't seem very consistent with your personality."

"He knows me well enough...if he thinks that this particular information would fail to bring me any sort of comfort, I believe him."

"What are you planning to do about this?"

"I already told you, nothing."

"Nothing at all?"

"There's nothing I _can_ do."

"I'm not so sure about that."

"He's a free man. I don't _own _him. I can't control him. It's not like we're_ married_. And even if we were, I can't make him do anything he doesn't want to do."

"So the alternative is to just let him do whatever he wants, with no consequences whatsoever?"

"..."

"Does that sound fair to you?"

"When has it ever mattered what was _fair_?"

"..."

"And besides...he's the one who has to live with himself."

"That would be an excellent point, if he didn't already have a lengthy history of infidelity that probably dates as far back as his first marriage."

"…"

"You think that, given the choice between losing you and losing someone else, he's going to choose the former. So you'd just rather not put him in a position to choose?"

"..."

"I'm having trouble understanding your reasoning, Greg."

"Some people just can't handle the idea of being alone."

"Meaning?"

"Some people weren't meant to be monogamous."

"And you believe that James is one of these people."

"He buys a new car every one or two years."

"So?"

"He replaces his shoes long before they even wear out. The idea of committing to anything long enough for it to get_ old _is completely foreign to him."

"And why do you think that is?"

"It's just no fun anymore, when the _new car _smell is gone."

"What do you mean?"

"Wilson...rescues people. He does this grand, knight in shining armor routine. When the other person reaches a point that they're no longer emotionally dependent on him, he loses interest."

"And you think he's lost interest in you."

"He says he hasn't."

"But you don't believe him."

"I already told you, I don't know what to believe."

"So...does this mean that you're now acknowledging that you've been, to some extent, emotionally dependent on him, all this time?"

"I've been...some kind of dependent."

"What explanation did he offer for his behavior?"

"He didn't."

"He didn't explain?"

"No...he _explained_. He just..."

"..."

"He told me up front that he didn't know why he did it, that he _had_ no excuse. It just happened."

"That's...almost worse."

"How?"

"It suggests a complete lack of ethical responsibility. He is in essence saying that him cheating on you, or anyone else he's in a relationship with, is inevitable and perhaps even outside his locus of control."

"So?"

"So...it's _isn't_ out of his control. He's making a conscious decision, a decision for which he apparently doesn't feel guilty and from which he doesn't deserve to be absolved."

"What do you want me to do, beat him? Forbid him to leave my sight? Put a studded dog collar on him and drag him around on a leash?"

"I'm concerned, Greg."

"Why?"

"Because...it seems like you're okay with this. It seems like you're okay with his _lack _of an explanation."

"What choice do I have?"

"You have options, Greg. You definitely have options. They're just not attractive."

"He said he wouldn't do it again."

"And you believe him?"

"Hey, it's the thought that counts."

"You don't believe that."

"No, I don't."

"Then why the hell are you letting this slide?"

"..."

"Aren't you angry? Don't you feel betrayed?"

"Yep."

"But you're just going to resort to having an open relationship, because the alternative is being alone?"

"Something is better than nothing, right?"

"Not if that _something_ is hurting you."

"It's fine. Really…it doesn't bother me."

"I don't believe you."

"It was just _sex_."

"And what happens if he does it again?"

"Nothing."

"So he can pretty much do whatever he likes, as long as he doesn't break up with you."

"..."

"Greg, that's sad."

"Yep."

"..."

"It's not...look, I'm not _okay _with it. I just...I understand."

"Understand what?"

"I'm pretty sure I know why he did it."

"You do?"

"Well...I have two separate theories."

"Let's hear them."

"Wilson is all about normalcy, about doing what's expected of him, about being whatever it is that other people want him to be."

"Okay. And how is that relevant to this situation?"

"I think he's still struggling with the idea of being..."

"Gay?"

"Yeah."

"What about you? Are you struggling with the idea of being gay?"

"I already told you, I don't believe in all encompassing labels. I think people are far more complicated than that."

"But James apparently _does_ believe in all encompassing labels."

"..."

"So he got together with this woman to what...prove to himself that he really was attracted to men, or to prove to himself that he was really attracted to women?"

"Definitely one of those."

"Which do you think it is?"

"I'm not sure."

"Did it occur to you to just ask him?"

"..."

"And what's your second theory?"

"Well...I was _here_ for nine weeks."

"So?"

"So he was _alone_ for nine weeks."

"You think that he had needs during that time that you weren't able to fulfill, due to your absence?"

"..."

"You've been home for six days now. That kind of tears a hole in your theory."

"..."

"But assuming you're theory is correct, you're okay with that? You're okay with the idea of him seeking to have his needs fulfilled from someone _other_ than you?"

"I'm not _okay_ with it. I just...think it makes sense."

"The fact that you can understand and possibly even scientifically explain his motives does_ not _excuse his behavior."

"..."

"Did you mention either of these theories to him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I didn't see the point."

"Perhaps you'd rather not know the truth."

"..."

"If you don't share your theories with him, that means you never have to find out whether or not they were accurate."

"..."

"How do you feel about yourself, Greg?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I mean, do you think you're attractive?"

"..."

"Do you think you're sexy?"

"..."

"Do you think you have a good sense of humor? Are you a good conversationalist? Are you charming? Are you...romantic?"

"..."

"Those questions make you uncomfortable."

"No..."

"How much thought would you say you've given to that sort of thing?"

"As little as possible."

"Why?"

"..."

"Rank yourself for me."

"What?"

"On a scale of one to ten, how good a catch would you say you are?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"Think about it."

"..."

"Just...give me a ballpark integer."

"Six."

"Six?"

"Definitely no more than...six and a half."

"Okay. And what criteria are you basing that on?"

"..."

"What about James?"

"What _about_ him?"

"Where would you say he ranks in the grand scheme of things?"

"..."

"You can't say?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Is it more than six and a half?"

"..."

"Is it less?"

"..."

"Why can't you just answer this question?"

"Because I don't know why you're asking."

"I think you do."

"If I absolutely _had_ to rank Wilson I'd say...eight and a half, maybe nine."

"And what are you basing _that_ number on?"

"..."

"So you think that James is a good catch."

"Obviously."

"Possibly even _too_ good a catch."

"..."

"Meaning that you should be doing everything in your power to keep him around, because he could realize at any given moment that you're not really worthy of his affection. And then you'd be alone again."

"..."

"You've referenced your age difference on numerous occasions. Maybe you think you're too old for him, or just too old in general."

"..."

"Maybe you think that because you're crippled and have a history of substance abuse problems, you should spend your time with the person who is likely to tolerate you the longest."

"Wilson has _tolerated_ me plenty."

"I know that, Greg. What concerns me is the verb in that sentence."

"..."

"And...I think it's safe to say that you're handsome."

"..."

"You don't agree?"

"I don't know."

"You either think you're attractive or you don't."

"I haven't really thought about it."

"Considering the regularity with which you tend to obsess about things, I find that difficult to believe."

"..."

"But assuming that you _are_ telling the truth, think about it now."

"..."

"I mean _right_ this very moment."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"Do you think you're attractive? Yes or no."

"I think maybe...I used to be, relatively speaking."

"And what happened to change that?"

"Life?"

"More specifically."

"I got...old."

"So you _do_ think you're too old to be attractive."

"No..."

"Then how is your age relevant?"

"It's like buying a used car."

"What is?"

"..."

"Explain that to me."

"You never know what you're _really_ getting. It might look good at first, if you don't bother checking under the hood. But usually there ends up being all kinds of stuff wrong with it...stuff that you probably never even considered. And by then it's too late. You're stuck with it. It's got no trade-in value. It's got no resale value. At the very most, you can...sell it for scrap metal."

"That's a dreadful analogy."

"But a valid one. Wouldn't it be easier to just buy a new car instead, one _without_ any existing problems?"

"You think your emotional baggage makes you an undesirable mate."

"Why do you insist on oversimplifying everything?"

"Why do you insist on making everything way more complicated than it needs to be?"

"..."

"Everyone has emotional baggage, Greg. And I have yet to encounter a human being over the age of two who had no _existing problems_."

"..."

"I'm not sure how to approach this. And I realize that my opinion on this particular matter probably carries very little weight. But for what it's worth, I think that you most definitely rank higher than a six and a half."

"Yeah? And what are you basing _that_ on?"

"Lots of things...aesthetics, personality, intelligence."

"Right."

"I don't know if you realize this, but you can be very entertaining. You have a fabulous sense of humor. You make other people laugh. You're devoted to your work. No matter how much knowledge you acquire, you still get excited about learning new things. You have an inherent need to pursue truth, to do what's right in the face of all adversity. You're not afraid to take chances, if the ends justify the means. Those things make you attractive."

"..."

"Isn't there anything that you like about yourself?"

"In regards to what?"

"In regards to your appearance, let's say."

"..."

"Just pick _one_ thing you like about yourself. It doesn't matter what it is."

"I can't think of anything."

"Try."

"..."

"How about if _I_ pick something?"

"..."

"Is that alright?"

"Would it stop you if I said _no_?"

"No."

"Very well, then."

"I think you have nice eyes."

"..."

"And by the look on your face, I'd say you've heard that before."

"Maybe."

"Who said it?"

"My mother."

"Ah..."

"..."

"And that doesn't count, right? Because your mother is biased, therefore rendering her opinion on the matter insignificant."

"Exactly."

"How about the opinion of someone who's _not_ biased?"

"Like who? _Everyone_ is biased."

"By that logic, nothing means anything. There's no such thing as an absolute truth."

"..."

"Is that really how you want to go through life?"

"It's better than living under the delusion that everything has some deeper purpose."

"How do you know that it doesn't?"

"I don't."

"Existentialists are rarely happy, Greg."

"I'm not an existentialist. I'm a...realist."

"Realists don't dismiss the aspects of reality that make them uncomfortable. They embrace them."

"I'm not _dismissing_ anything."

"Aren't you, though? Over the years you've come to believe certain things, about yourself and the world around you. You systematically reject anything that doesn't support those beliefs, until you're given no choice but to reckon with it. And even then, you don't go down without a fight."

"..."

"Have you made any effort to tell James about your FMD diagnosis?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"It just...hasn't come up."

"He hasn't asked?"

"He's asked."

"Then it sounds like it_ has _come up."

"..."

"Is your surgery still scheduled for the fourteenth at three-thirty?"

"Yes."

"So that date is quickly approaching. It's less than a week away."

"..."

"Wouldn't it be more considerate of you to fill him in _before_ that date arrives?"

"It'd just be one more thing for him to stress over."

"Your point being?"

"You think he'd be less likely to cheat on me if he knew that I was afflicted with some terrible disease?"

"No. But from the tone of your voice I suspect that you think the opposite is true."

"..."

"I don't think he would be less likely to cheat on you, actually. I just think it's a mistake to hide _anything_ from him, especially when the goal is to prevent him from hiding anything from you."

"I don't need to know everything about Wilson and he doesn't need to know everything about me."

"The more he knows about how you feel, both physically and emotionally, the less apt he is to dismiss your humanity."

"Which is just a fancy way of saying that the more pathetic I am, the guiltier he'll feel about screwing me over."

"If that's how you'd prefer to look at it."

"..."

"But he did something wrong. He cheated on you."

"So?"

"So he _should_ feel guilty."

"..."

"I want you to be willing to set boundaries, Greg. I want you to be able to draw a line in the sand and say _this is as much as I'm willing to tolerate_. I want you to believe that you have the right to be treated fairly, to be loved and respected."

"Believing something does not make it so."

"So the alternative is to just assume you're entitled to nothing, and that anything decent life might toss your way is an added bonus."

"..."

"I know that you fear being abandoned, probably more than anything. I know you think that if you become too demanding, if you ask too much of people, they will eventually regard you as an inconvenience. And given your relationship history, that's a totally reasonable feeling for you to have. But you can't actually _live_ like that. Dismissing your own needs to the point at which you begin convincing yourself that they don't exist, is _not_ a viable solution."

"..."

"And if by some chance James cannot remain faithful, that's a reflection of him, not you. If he chooses to end your relationship, for whatever reason, then you need to consider it _his_ loss."

"Why?"

"Because it's true."

"Who cares?"

"..."

"Who the hell cares what's _true_? What difference will it really make _what_ I believe? Will I be any less alone?"

"Whether or not you're _alone_ depends a great deal on how you view yourself. You would feel lonely, even if you were in a crowded room. And that is because you genuinely believe that you're not worthy of anyone's else's time or energy. I know I've told you this before. But what you don't seem to realize is...you project that belief onto others. You go out of your way to alienate people. You make certain that they won't like you. Because then you feel like you're in control, and that's _so_ much easier to maintain than actual relationships."

"..."

"Your being alone is something that's within your power to control. It_ is _a choice. And...there are plenty of other people on the planet who would be willing to enjoy your company _besides_ James Wilson."

"..."

"You look troubled all of a sudden."

"You're trying to prepare me."

"Prepare you for what?"

"You want me to be ready...for when this relationship fails."

"I want you to be ready_ if _it fails. But that's not why I'm telling you this."

"..."

"You're in a very vulnerable spot right now, Greg."

"You think I don't know that?"

"I know that you know that. But I also I want you to know that your recovery and your progress as a human being are not dependent on the success of this _one_ relationship. So there's no need to throw all of your eggs into one basket."

"..."

"Tell me something. If the possibility of being abandoned was eliminated...say you could issue an ultimatum with a one hundred percent guarantee that it would end in your favor, would you do it?"

"What kind of ultimatum?"

"Like..._if you cheat on me ever again, we're through_."

"I don't know."

"Isn't there even a small part of you that really wishes you had the balls to say that?"

"It's not about _balls_."

"What's it about then?"

"Wilson doesn't respond well the being backed into a corner."

"Who the hell does?"

"..."

"You think he'd walk away? You think he'd call your bluff?"

"I _know_ he would."

"..."

"Hey...he has that right."

"True. But so do you."

"I just mean, he shouldn't have to settle."

"I don't think he's the one who's _settling_ in this scenario, Greg."

"..."

"It _is_ possible to get what you want out of a relationship."

"..."

"Just last week, for the first time in your entire life, you established boundaries with your mother. You _drew_ that line in the sand. You confronted her about fifty years worth of unresolved issues, and you refused to allow her to manipulate you."

"So?"

"So now you know that you're capable. Now you know that it can be done."

"Wilson...is _not_ my mother."

"No. But James and your mother have a great deal in common. They're both manipulative, yet seem to be completely oblivious to their own ulterior motives. They're both intensely concerned about pleasing others and maintaining a certain appearance, almost to the point where they sacrifice their own identity in the process. They both care about you a great deal, but are reluctant to acknowledge the ways in which they've failed you."

"..."

"Right?"

"I guess."

"Are you going to see her again?"

"I haven't decided."

"Why not?"

"I just haven't."

"And have you told _her_ about your recent diagnosis?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because she doesn't need to know."

"If something were to happen to you between now and your surgery, or during the procedure itself, it would be quite a shock for your mother. Don't you think?"

"I've been shocking my mother since the day I was born."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"..."

"How did your mother react to the news of your infarction?"

"I don't know."

"You _don't know_?"

"I mean, I don't know how she reacted _initially_. My girlfriend was the one who told her."

"And what about when you got shot?"

"Again, I wasn't the one to relay that information."

"Did your parents come and visit you on either of those occasions?"

"My mom wanted to. I told her _no_."

"Why?"

"Because my life was complicated enough. I didn't see the point of adding to that chaos."

"You think she would have only contributed to the stress, instead of alleviating it."

"Yes."

"What about the bus crash?"

"What about it?"

"Did you tell your parents about that?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"My father was on his deathbed. It seemed like an inappropriate time to be bearing bad news."

"So you don't think your mother would have been able to handle it, in light of the fact that she was already dealing with your father's terminal illness."

"..."

"How about when you were a kid? How did your mother act when you were sick or injured?"

"She tended to treat everything like it was a life threatening catastrophe."

"Ah."

"..."

"But for all practical purposes, this _is_ a life threatening catastrophe."

"Precisely."

"So you're just trying to spare her that anguish."

"..."

"I have to be honest, Greg. I don't think you're protecting your mother, or James for that matter. I think you're protecting yourself."

"..."

"Allowing people to know that you're ill, means having to acknowledge the possibility that they care. Keeping your diagnosis to yourself means never having to find out how people would have felt about it. It means never having to acknowledge that they might actually miss you, if you died."

"..."

"I'd like to know what you're planning to do."

"About what?"

"About this situation with James."

"Hell...I don't know. You may have noticed that I'm a little preoccupied at the moment."

"Is that the problem?"

"..."

"What are you feeling right now?"

"It's like juggling chainsaws."

"What is?"

"I'm just...I've got this surgery coming up, right? But I haven't dealt with it. I've barely even thought about it. I haven't bothered to research the procedure, or the diagnosis for that matter. And ordinarily, I would have done that by now. Ordinarily I would have left no stone unturned. I would have soaked up every last particle of information available, before even booking the OR."

"..."

"I just spent nine weeks in a mental hospital. I've been institutionalized twice in one calendar year. I'm trying to stay clean, or at the very least, figure out what the hell that means for me. I'm fifty years old and I just recently had my first ever _real_, adult conversation with my mother. And Wilson has apparently decided that _now_ would be a good time to put his dick in someone else's mouth."

"It sounds like you're overwhelmed."

"My life right now is like...triage. I can only deal with the most immediate threat. Thing is, I'm not even sure if I know what that is."

"You don't know whether you should be focusing on your sobriety, your health, your upcoming surgery, or your relationship with James. And you're afraid to pick, because you know that one way or another, something will end up suffering as a result."

"Wilson said I was _emotionally unavailable_."

"You mean during the nine weeks that you were here?"

"No. He meant in general."

"Do you think he's right?"

"He asked what he could do...to help."

"That was nice of him."

"But he wanted an immediate answer."

"What did you tell him?"

"I didn't know _what_ to tell him."

"And how did he respond to your inability to provide him with an immediate answer?"

"He was...irritated."

"When did this conversation take place?"

"Yesterday morning."

"And you think that's why he cheated on you last night, because you're _emotionally unavailable_?"

"..."

"You need to talk to him."

"I have _talked_ to him. Seems like all we do anymore is _talk_."

"I mean _really_ talk to him. Tell him what you just told me. Tell him that you're overwhelmed. Tell him that you're scared. I know you think making him aware of your diagnosis will only make things worse. But he'd be more well equipped to help you if he was privy to the full breadth of your issues."

"..."

"I know you're scared, Greg. You don't want to put yourself in a position to need him, because there's a chance that he might not be there. And that's too great a risk. If you end up going through this thing alone, you want it to be _your _choice."

"What would you do?"

"You're actually asking me?"

"Yes."

"..."

"If you were me...if you were in my situation, what would be your number one priority?"

"I think you should deal with things in order of their immediacy. The surgery takes precedence."

"..."

"And I think you'd both be more comfortable making that your priority, if James were aware of your diagnosis."

"Yeah."

"I get the feeling that you already knew what I was going to say."

"Guess I was hoping you'd say something else."

"Like what?"

"I have no idea."

"If you're looking for the easiest route here, I don't think there is one. Pretty much every option will include its own unique complications."

"..."

"Do you need anything from me?"

"For what?"

"I mean, in regards to everything that's on your plate right now. Like your surgery, for instance. Would you like me to be there when they put you under? Would you like me to visit you afterwards? Would you prefer it if I called you? Would you be more comfortable calling me instead?"

"I...don't think that will be necessary."

"But I didn't ask what was necessary. I asked what you _wanted_. Or should I just wait until our next meeting to ask you how it went?"

"..."

"You don't know what you want?"

"..."

"Or maybe you're just not used to being asked."

"I guess...it would be nice."

"What would?"

"I mean, if you were there."

"Before, during, after? What would work best for you?"

"After."

"How long is the procedure going to be?"

"It's vascular surgery. So it will probably be somewhere between four and eight hours."

"And how long before you regain consciousness?"

"Another six to twelve hours, depending on how hard they hit me with the anesthesia."

"Who's your attending?"

"Santiago."

"How about if Dr. Santiago pages me when the surgery is complete?"

"Yeah, I guess that could work."

"Great. I'll guess I'll be seeing you then."


	41. Another Sixty Minutes: Part 28

_Phone conversation between Wilson and Dr. Nolan. Includes spoilers for season 6 episodes that have yet to air._

* * *

**Another Sixty Minutes**

"Darryl, it's James...Wilson."

"What can I do for you, James?"

"Look...I realize that you're probably very busy and it's doubtful that you'd be able to find the time on such short notice. But in the off chance that you'd be willing, I really need you to come over here...like right now."

"Okay...slow down a bit and just tell me what's wrong."

"I've got a little situation with House."

"What kind of situation?"

"Remember how I told you that we talked right before his surgery and that he seemed mysteriously fine…and you said that was unlikely, that he was probably just still processing and I should keep an eye out for any strange behavior?"

"I take it he's exhibiting some strange behavior?"

"House has been on his hands and knees all morning."

"Doing what?"

"Scrubbing the kitchen tile."

"I take it he's still on disability from the surgery."

"He's got the rest of the month off."

"I see."

"..."

"It's been my observation that Greg is...a fairly task oriented person."

"So?"

"So...he needs to be doing something at all times, in order to feel productive. He measures his own value as a person according to his productivity. It sounds to me like he's just bored, and he doesn't currently have his job to distract him from that boredom. He isn't really a hundred percent sure of what it is that he's feeling and instead of confronting that, he's trying to busy himself with meaningless chores."

"…"

"This is not a crisis, James. Just…let him finish the job. He'll tire of it eventually. And look on the bright side, you'll have a clean floor."

"I don't think you quite understand what I'm trying to say."

"Then help me understand."

"He's not using a mop, or even a rag or a sponge. He's not just _cleaning_ the floor. He's cleaning the grout around every individual tile. He's using bleach and a toothbrush. And he's been at it for hours. He started last night. I don't think he ever went to bed…and near as I can tell, he's not even halfway done."

"…"

"And that's not even addressing the fact that he just underwent open heart surgery eleven days ago. He stayed in the hospital a total of forty-eight hours, at which point he claimed that he felt great and was ready to go home. And he somehow manipulated his surgeon into discharging him early. But even if he really _is_ feeling great, which I seriously doubt, he should still be taking it easy."

"Have you ever known Greg to _take it easy,_ whether it was in his best interest or not?"

"No, I guess I haven't."

"Is he having any postoperative discomfort, gas, cramps, constipation...that sort of thing?"

"He says he's not."

"Do you have any reason to think he might be lying?"

"No. But House hasn't exactly been forthcoming with any information pertaining to his health, as of late."

"Is there any sign of infection?"

"He's not flushed or sweating, near as I can tell."

"What about a rash around the incision, any redness or tenderness?"

"I wouldn't know, seeing as he refuses to show me his _incision_."

"You haven't seen it?"

"Well I watched the surgery from the theater. So I saw the surgeon sew him up. But I haven't gotten a good look at it, up close."

"So I take it that means you haven't seen him with his shirt off since before the surgery."

"No, I haven't."

"..."

"But House has never been the type to walk around without a shirt. He never even wears shorts either, unless they go down past his knees."

"Why do you think that is?"

"He's been…self conscious about his body, ever since the infarction."

"What was he like before that?"

"A good deal less modest."

"Hmm...do you think he'd allow you to take his vital signs?"

"I...don't know. Maybe."

"I think you should, at the very least, get his blood pressure and make sure he doesn't have a fever."

"You think his sudden desire to clean is the result of a bacterial infection?"

"That would certainly satisfy the irony factor."

"..."

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure."

"Well first, let me just say...you're probably well aware. But just in case you're not. I think it's only fair that I tell you, I know what happened between you and Greg, two weeks ago."

"Yeah, I kind of figured he might have mentioned it."

"Hmm...you seem bothered to learn that."

"Well I'm not exactly thrilled. But you're his therapist. It's not like I can stop him from talking to you about it."

"Do you think I'm going to judge you?"

"Are you saying you won't?"

"I'm sure you have reasons for doing what you did."

"Yeah? Tell him that."

"I have, actually."

"Well it doesn't seem to have made a difference."

"You don't think he has the right to be upset?"

"Of course he does."

"Look...I'm not judging you, James. That's not why I mentioned it. I just wanted to get it out in the open. I wanted to make it clear to you that I already know about what happened, so that you'd feel more comfortable being totally candid with me."

"..."

"What I actually wanted to ask you is...whether or not you and Greg have done anything remotely intimate, since that event took place."

"Not...really."

"_Not really_ or not at all?"

"Not at all."

"Why do you think that is?"

"It's lame, I know."

"What's lame?"

"This is going to sound really stupid. But I can't help thinking he's trying to...punish me."

"By denying you pleasure?"

"Not just that...also by springing this whole open heart surgery thing on me. I feel like...I don't know what I feel. I don't know."

"Hmm."

"I told you it was stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid. It's actually a fairly reasonable conclusion to draw. But that doesn't necessarily make it true either."

"..."

"Have you brought any of this to Greg's attention?"

"I've tried, believe me."

"And he hasn't be receptive?"

"He's become rather adept at tuning me out."

"..."

"It sounds like you're definitely angry at him for not telling you sooner."

"I'm not _angry_."

"Do you actually believe everything that comes out of your mouth?"

"What?"

"Why don't you abandon your need to sugarcoat things, and just say what's _really_ on your mind?"

"What's _really_ on my mind is...I don't know what's going on with House. One day he's completely committed to his recovery, the next he's snorting Benadryl with a straw. One day he'll be needy and clingy, the next he doesn't even want to be touched. He claims he wants me to _be there_ for him. But he refuses to tell me exactly what that means. He claims that he has needs. But he refuses to tell me what they are. Are you getting the picture here?"

"I think so. But has it occurred to you that maybe he doesn't _know_ what he wants or needs?"

"How can he _not_ know?"

"A lot of people don't. And the concept of articulating his feelings and asking for that which he needs is a rather new one, to him anyway."

"And just how long do you think it will take for him to change that? _Will _it ever change?"

"I think that it will, under the right circumstances."

"..."

"But I personally believe that Greg has already made a great deal of progress in that department. I realize it's possible that 's only apparent to me, because I happen to be his therapist. Monitoring his progress is my job."

"No, you're right. He_ has _grown as a person. I just...I'm impatient. I've always been impatient. Maybe I'm just expecting too much."

"Do you _think_ you're expecting too much?"

"I don't know. I mean, after all these years, this whole concept of us being more than just friends...it's weird. I'm still trying to figure it out. You know?"

"There's nothing wrong with taking the time to figure things out, as long as you don't alienate Greg in the process."

"Meaning what?"

"It's no secret to him that you're struggling with your sexual identity. It's actually normal and healthy for you to be apprehensive about such a dramatic change, especially at this point in your life. It's normal to be questioning your feelings and to be searching for answers. But what's important is that Greg knows...it's the idea of a homosexual relationship that you're uncertain about, not simply the idea of being in a relationship with him."

"Is that what he thinks, that it's about him?"

"I can't say for sure. That's a product of my own speculation, based on conversations he and I have had. Confidentiality rights prevent me from being more specific."

"Of course."

"Has Greg said anything at all to you about what he's doing right now?"

"You mean scrubbing the tile?"

"Yes."

"Just that the floor is filthy and he can't believe I didn't notice."

"But he hasn't provided you with any explanation for his behavior."

"It's not because I haven't asked."

"..."

"It actually seems like he's ignoring me. I mean...not completely. But sometimes...if I didn't know any better, I'd say he wasn't hearing me at all."

"Do you have any reason to believe there might be something wrong with his hearing?"

"No...it's not like that."

"So it's safe to say that he's rather focused on the task at hand, to the point that he's capable of tuning you out."

"That's one way to put it."

"But Greg has exhibited obsessive-compulsive tendencies plenty of times before, right?"

"Mostly in regards to his work."

"Have those tendencies ever manifested themselves as a desire to clean or disinfect his surroundings?"

"Not that I know of."

"You two have lived together at several different points in time. Isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"Has Greg ever expressed _any_ interest whatsoever in the cleanliness of his immediate environment?"

"No. I mean, that's just it. He never cared before. It was next to impossible to get him to do the dishes, to hang up his towel or to put his dirty clothing in the hamper, instead of on the floor. Sometimes he'd go weeks without doing any laundry and months without changing his sheets."

"…"

"And the odd thing is, despite that, he's always been really particular about his stuff. To a normal person, it would seem cluttered. But he knows exactly where everything is and he has a fit whenever anyone touches or moves anything without his permission."

"Well that's a control issue."

"What is?"

"He feels powerless."

"Powerless against what?"

"Everything."

"..."

"And he's attempting to alleviate that powerlessness by manipulating his circumstances, so that some things appear to be under his control. It's a common behavior pattern for addicts, victims of trauma, people who self-mutilate, and persons with eating disorders. Something in their lives is chaotic and they long for peace and order. But they can't find it the old fashioned way. So they manufacture it themselves."

"I'm not sure I understand what you're trying to say."

"It's all about control, James."

"..."

"Think about it. Over ten years ago, Greg had the infarction. His girlfriend put him into a medically induced coma, at which point she approved a surgery that she knew full well he didn't want. He woke up crippled and in excruciating pain. In that scenario, Greg had no say about anything. He had absolutely no control over what was happening to his body."

"…"

"Five years ago, someone broke into his office and shot him in the abdomen and neck. The man's motives continue to remain a mystery. But he was never caught, meaning that not only is he still out there somewhere, but he might possibly be planning to shoot someone else...if he hasn't already. And Greg took advantage of the opportunity to undergo that experimental ketamine procedure, which was designed to alleviate his chronic pain. But it was only successful for about three months, at which point he ended up right back where he'd started, possibly even worse off than he'd been to begin with."

"..."

"Two years ago, he called you for a ride home from a bar, and somehow ended up on a bus with your girlfriend. And because of the role he played in her death, the two of you became temporarily estranged, leaving Greg without any support system to speak of..."

"Hold on a second...forgive me if I'm not oozing with sympathy over here. But_ I_ was the one whose girlfriend had died. Why the hell would _he_ need a support system?"

"You don't think he was at all traumatized by that event?"

"I know he's sorry. I know he feels guilty about..."

"First of all, _everyone_ needs a support system. Second of all, I didn't mean that Greg was traumatized _just_ by being responsible for Amber's death. I meant the whole thing, the accident itself, the amnesia, the fractured skull, the physostigmine overdose, the deep brain stimulation, the seizing and going into a coma, and most importantly, the waking up to discover that you and he were no longer friends..."

"You're saying that I should have abandoned my own grief to cater to his needs."

"Not at all. I'm just pointing out that you had the sense to seek help. You went to therapy, started taking antidepressants, read self-help books, attended grief recovery groups, reached out to colleagues and friends. Whether you realized it or not, you had people there who were willing to support you in some capacity. Greg had no one and even if he had, he didn't possess the ability to reach out to them or ask for help. And not only that, right around that same time, his father was dying of congestive heart failure. Now that's not your fault, that he was alone. You're not responsible for his inability to get along with other people. You're not responsible for his lack of friends either. But I'm trying to explain to you why he might be desperate enough to resort to such extreme behavior, in order to exercise some control over his life."

"..."

"About a year ago, one of his fellows committed suicide. Isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"And there was absolutely no warning whatsoever. The young man in question gave no indication that he was even mildly depressed, or that he was having a hard time. And certainly no one would have suspected there was anything wrong with him, based on his day to day behavior. His own parents apparently didn't see it coming. Even Greg didn't see it coming. Therefore there was nothing he could have done to prevent it."

"..."

"Nine months ago, Greg suffered a bout of depression based psychosis. During that time he believed himself to be, among other things, conversing with your dead girlfriend. He was concerned enough about it that he willingly checked himself into a mental hospital, when that was probably the last thing he wanted to do. He suffered through four days of some of the worst withdrawals I've ever seen and ended up spending the entire summer there, recuperating."

"…"

"And lastly...you recently cheated on him. There was nothing he could have said or done to prevent that from happening. There was nothing he did to cause it. And there's nothing he can do to keep it from happening again. In other words, whether or not you choose to be faithful to him is entirely out of his hands. Because you have free will. He has no choice but to trust you to do the right thing, even when he has reason to believe you probably won't. And that's just another aspect of his life that's completely out of his control."

"..."

"What would you like me to do, James? How can I help you with this?"

"That's just it. I don't know. I thought maybe you could talk to him, or at the very least, come and observe his behavior."

"I'll be seeing him on Wednesday afternoon, assuming he's planning on keeping that appointment."

"What if he doesn't keep it?"

"I...tell you what. Just let him finish cleaning the floor. When he's done, see what he does next. If he starts another ambitious household project of some sort, call me and I will come and check it out."

"Well you might as well come now. Because he already told me what he's going to do next."

"Which is?"

"He's going to take all the dishes out of the cupboards, wipe out the inside of the cupboards and then clean all the dishes, before putting them back."

"Do you think that's something that _needs_ doing?"

"We've only lived here for five months. The dishes haven't even had time to get dusty. And besides that, I wiped out all the drawers and cupboards before we moved in."

"Did you point that out to him?"

"Yes."

"And what was his response?"

"That I clearly didn't do a good enough job."

"He actually said that?"

"Yes."

"Wow."

"And after he's done with that chore, he says he's going to clean all the ceiling fans. _Then_ he's going to clean the inside of the refrigerator. _Then_ he's going to go around the apartment and remove all the switchplaces, so he can scrub them in the sink."

"How would you describe his demeanor right now?"

"In regards to what?"

"I mean...is there any noticeable range of emotion? Is he frustrated? Is he tense? Is he angry or annoyed? Or is he lacking in affect altogether?"

"He seems...slightly annoyed, yes."

"Annoyed at you, or just in general?"

"In general."

"Well that's a good sign."

"Why?"

"Because it means he's _feeling_ something. If he were completely lacking in affect, then I would say you might have a problem."

"Did you know that on the day of his procedure, he woke me up at six o'clock in the morning? He woke me up to tell me that he'd be having open heart surgery that afternoon. There was no warning, no build-up, just…_oh by the way, they're going to be cracking my chest open today. So if you're not doing anything already, I'd like you to be there_."

"He actually said he _wanted_ you here?"

"Yes."

"I know you were _there_ afterwards, because I was there also. But did he ask you to be there prior to the surgery as well?"

"Yes."

"Hmm."

"What."

"I don't see the problem."

"You don't think there's anything wrong with springing that type of news on someone, first thing in the morning?"

"I absolutely do. And I told him so. I just meant that I don't think his request that you be there was an unreasonable one. I'm actually impressed that he was willing to admit that he wanted you there in the first place. Because I can't imagine that was easy for him."

"..."

"And I'm sure Greg wouldn't mind me telling you...I advised him to let you know about the status of his health. But he decided that if you didn't know about the surgery until the last possible moment, you'd be less likely to stress out over it. He was trying to spare you that worry."

"He actually told you that?"

"Yes, he did. Just like I assume that you're doing, by keeping the identity of your mistress a secret. You're trying to spare Greg that worry."

"She's not my_ mistress_."

"Then who is she?"

"It doesn't matter who she is."

"The fact that you're so adamant about that suggests that it actually _does_ matter. In fact, it may matter a lot."

"..."

"You don't think he has a right to know who you cheated on him with?"

"It's only going to upset him."

"He's already upset. He might as well be _informed _and upset."

"Seeing as I'm not planning on doing it again, I don't see what's so important about revealing that person's identity."

"I get why you might not want to tell Greg who she was. But I still think you should talk about it. Are you still in therapy with Dr. Grable?"

"I stopped going about six months ago."

"I see. But you need to be able to talk about it with someone. Just so you know, you're more than welcome to share that information with me."

"Right…I'm sure I can tell you that in complete and total confidence."

"Actually, you can."

"Sorry, I don't buy it."

"He seemed to think you might be right."

"About what?"

"That nothing good would come of him knowing who she was."

"..."

"I disagree...obviously. I think you should tell him. But you know that my professional obligation prevents me from sharing the details of this conversation with anyone."

"…"

"You really think it would make things worse if he knew who she was?"

"I _know_ it would."

"Well that kind of narrows it down, doesn't it?

"To what?"

"To people who would pose a threat to your relationship with Greg."

"As far as he's concerned, _everyone _poses a threat to our relationship...male, female, primates, reptiles..."

"No...it has to be someone you _both_ know."

"If you say so."

"I'm guessing...it was either someone with whom you both work, or an ex of some sort."

"…"

"I'm right, right?"

"…"

"So which was it?"

"Must you be so clever?"

"It's how I make it through the day."

"..."

"So which was it?"

"It was an ex."

"Which one?"

"Sam."

"Sam as in Samantha...as in your first wife?"

"I swear I never meant for it to happen."

"Then how _did_ it happen?"

"She's currently touring the east coast, giving lectures about a new experimental drug to treat asymptomatic ALD."

"I've actually read some of her articles on the subject."

"You have?"

"It intrigues me. The truth is that we still don't know what causes ALD. But her research is very important. If she gets FDA approval, she'll be altering the future of medicine."

"Yeah."

"So how did you go from a chance meeting, to where you ended up?"

"I ran into her in the hotel lobby, where the conference was being held."

"Do you think she knew that you'd be there?"

"I have no idea. I doubt it. I didn't even register until the last minute."

"Why not?"

"Because a couple of my patients took a turn for the worst and I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to attend."

"And did _you_ know that _she _would be there?"

"Of course. But it's not like I was planning on even speaking to her."

"Then why did you go?"

"I don't know. I was...curious. I saw the press release online, that she was coming to New Jersey. I hadn't seen her in seventeen years. I thought it might be interesting."

"So…again, how exactly did you get from point A to point B?"

"Well...we ran into each other in the lobby, like I said. We started talking. Then we grabbed lunch together. It was...one of those buffet type things. Then we started talking...and we ending up sitting next to each other for the remainder of the conference."

"Did you give any thought to how Greg might feel if he knew that you were socializing with your ex-wife?"

"I didn't think it would matter."

"Why?"

"Because I had no intention of doing anything remotely sexual with her, at the time. It was the furthest thing from my mind."

"So you didn't see the harm in engaging in behavior that could be mistaken for flirting, because in your own mind anyway, you weren't actually flirting."

"…"

"How exactly did things escalate?"

"She invited me back to her room…"

"At the hotel?"

"Yes."

"You had sex there?"

"Actually, no. She just wanted to show me some pictures of her kids."

"She's remarried?"

"Yes...but divorced."

"How many kids does she have?"

"Two boys. I don't remember their ages."

"..."

"We didn't do anything in her hotel room. We looked at the pictures, drank some coffee, talked some more. We parted ways that evening and I just assumed that would be the end of it."

"But it wasn't."

"I was working late the next day, trying to make up for the time I'd spent at the conference. She showed up at my office, around nine, nine-thirty. I honestly had no idea that she even knew where I worked."

"What did she want?"

"She…wanted to talk."

"What did she want to talk about?"

"She said she was leaving the next morning, and that it might be months before she could make her way back to Jersey. She admitted that she still had feelings for me and wondered if it was too late to do anything about it."

"Did you tell her that you were already spoken for?"

"Not...exactly."

"Why not?"

"She seemed so...lost and lonely. I guess I didn't want to hurt her feelings."

"Don't you think that if Greg knew you were reluctant to divulge that information to your ex-wife, it would hurt _his_ feelings?"

"..."

"Are her feelings worth more than his? Or is it a proximity issue? It's just easier to care about people who happen to be standing right in front of you."

"That wasn't my _only_ reason."

"Okay."

"I...didn't feel like getting into a debate about my sexuality."

"That's understandable."

"..."

"But couldn't you have been vague?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...you could have just as easily told her that you were seeing someone, without disclosing that person's identity, or their sex for that matter."

"It didn't even cross my mind."

"So you think she would have rejected the notion that you could be gay?"

"I don't know...probably. Or she'd have drawn ridiculous conclusions about why our relationship _actually_ failed."

"But the two of you _did_ end up having sex."

"We kissed."

"And nothing more?"

"She was talking about her divorce, which was fairly recent...and that her mother passed away and she had to put her father in a convalescent home, and about a dozen other horrible things that have happened to her in the past year. She was crying, naturally. So we sat down on the couch. I attempted to comfort her. Before I knew it, we were making out."

"Who do you think instigated that?"

"It was...fairly mutual."

"And you don't think it's possible that she might have been manipulating you?"

"Sam's not the manipulative type."

"Okay."

"..."

"So I take it that you didn't stop at kissing."

"We...fondled each other a little. Then....you know."

"She gave you oral sex?"

"Yes."

"What were you thinking when that was taking place?"

"I don't know."

"Why did you let her do it?"

"I honestly...don't know. At the moment, it felt good. And I guess I wanted to keep feeling good."

"Even though doing so had the potential to hurt someone else, someone who you cared about."

"Yes."

"How do you feel about what you and Sam did together?"

"It shouldn't have happened."

"But it _did_ happen."

"It shouldn't…see _this_ is what scares me. I had no intention of doing anything with her, none at all. I had no intention of cheating on House. And yet…I did it. And I don't even know why."

"People cheat because there's something missing in their existing relationships. What's missing from your relationship with Greg?"

"He's…nothing really."

"Something must be."

"It's not that there's something _missing_. He's just...emotionally unavailable."

"In what sense?"

"I can't explain."

"Try."

"I'm not saying…it's not that I think it makes it okay. I just…it seems like I can't talk to him about anything remotely important."

"Important to whom?"

"Me."

"I see. So you were feeling ignored and entitled and when the opportunity to alleviate that presented itself, you seized the moment."

"Basically, yes."

"And what about Sam?"

"What about her?"

"Does she know that you're involved with Greg now? Did she realize that whatever it was that you were doing was likely to be a one time thing?"

"I didn't really…"

"So she was left with the impression that this might happen again."

"She lives in Boston. And she's going to be on the road for another three months at least."

"Making her geographically inconvenient."

"Yes."

"But Boston isn't that far away. If you wanted to have an affair with this woman, you could make it happen."

"I'm not going to have an affair."

"I'm not saying you will. I'm saying that it's within the realm of possibility."

"..."

"Again, I really think you should disclose this information to Greg."

"He just going to be pissed."

"..."

"And he _should_ be pissed. I just...I don't know. I don't know if I can do this."

"Well the alternative is, he's going to continue denying you physical intimacy and throw all of his energy into pointless, household tasks. He's going to continue ignoring you and tuning you out, until it gets to the point that you can't take it anymore and he successfully drives you away."

"..."

"Which seems like a shame to me, when it's entirely possible to prevent all of that from happening."

"..."

"You have a history of infidelity. You've cheated on every person with whom you've had a serious, long term relationship. With your wives, you had no qualms about telling them that you'd cheated or even who you'd cheated with. But that's only because you didn't care that much whether or not they broke up with you. You cared that you'd hurt them, but not enough to actually deter you from doing so. I'm guessing that unlike with your wives, you had no intention of telling Greg that you'd cheated. You never meant for him to find out, because you actually _do _care about hurting him. You actually want your relationship to work. You don't just want to scrap it and move on to the next flavor of the month."

"..."

"Am I right?"

"For the most part."

"..."

"Look...I know this is not going to be easy. But I think it will be worth it."

"I'll think about it."

"Glad to hear it."

"..."

"And you have my number if you need to talk."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome."


	42. It Feels Like Home To Me

_THIS IS AU from the rest of the verse. _

_I just got the idea and had to write it._

_I split it into two parts, to spare your attention spans._

_House overdoses on Tylenol and Nolan talks to him when he wakes up in the ICU. The beginning of the conversation is one sided, because House isn't talking._

_WARNING: ATTEMPTED SUICIDE AND SPOILER SPECULATION FOR UNAIRED EPISODES OF SEASON SIX._

* * *

**It Feels Like Home To Me**

"Looks like someone's finally awake."

"..."

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

"..."

"According to your chart, you've been out for about fifteen hours."

"..."

"It's almost midnight now."

"..."

"Are you thirsty?"

"..."

"You missed dinner, obviously. But you've got to be hungry."

"..."

"I could probably round something up for you, if you like. But it will have to be something light, like soup."

"..."

"Your sats look good. Blood pressure is still on the low side, but stabilized."

"..."

"Your liver almost failed completely...AST and ALT were both over three times the normal range. But you seem to be responding well to the treatment."

"..."

"They just drew labs about forty-five minutes ago. I guess they're waiting to see what your creatinine levels are, so they can decide whether to discontinue hemodialysis."

"..."

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"..."

"Do you remember anything at all about last night?"

"..."

"Look...you don't have to talk yet, if you don't want to."

"..."

"But since there's no way of knowing exactly how long you were oxygen deprived, I can't ignore the possibility that you might have suffered a hypoxic brain injury."

"..."

"So at least blink if you can understand me. Otherwise I'm going to have to do neuro checks."

"..."

"Good."

"..."

"I got here about eleven hours ago, I think. But after sitting in this chair all night, it feels like a lot longer."

"..."

"I guess they're not really designed for sleeping in."

"..."

"We have more comfortable chairs at Mayfield, in my opinion. But your hospital has better vending machines. So I guess that evens it out."

"..."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get here any sooner. I left immediately after getting the call. But I had to stop and get gas and the traffic was really heavy on the ninety-five."

"..."

"I did run a red light on Nassau, though."

"..."

"I didn't get pulled over, thankfully."

"..."

"But I think that I might have had my picture taken by one of those traffic security cameras."

"..."

"I guess I'll find out when I get the bill in the mail, right?"

"..."

"I realize none of that is really relevant to your situation. I just thought you might enjoy knowing that I'd broken the law."

"..."

"Look...Greg. As sensitive a subject as this obviously is, you know that as your psychiatrist, there are a few things I'm professionally obligated to ask."

"..."

"But you're not talking yet."

"..."

"So...I'm just letting you know that, until you state otherwise, I have no choice but to assume that your acetaminophen overdose was _not_ an accident."

"..."

"If I'm mistaken about that, please feel free to speak up and correct me at any time."

"..."

"Because you know that they aren't going to take off these restraints, as long as they have reason to believe that you're still a danger to yourself."

"..."

"And they have no way of knowing for sure whether or not you're a danger to yourself, without some sort of verbal feedback."

"..."

"I'm told you crashed twice, before the code team was able to stabilize you."

"..."

"The second time, it took them ten minutes of compressions and five milligrams of atropine to get you back."

"..."

"Just in case you were wondering why your chest is sore and bruised."

"..."

"They didn't break any ribs, at least. "

"..."

"I know that you probably aren't capable of appreciating this, at the moment. But I don't think you realize just how lucky you are to be alive."

"..."

"You were barely breathing when the janitor found you. If he'd shown up even a few minutes later...it's doubtful that you would have survived."

"..."

"But I guess that was kind of the point, right?"

"..."

"Or was it?"

"..."

"I don't mean to be insensitive. But I know that you value honesty over everything else. So I'm just going to be frank with you."

"..."

"There are a few things about this scenario that I find rather puzzling."

"..."

"The first one is the location. Out of all the options available to you, the place you chose to do this was your own office."

"..."

"Now I suppose it's possible that you weren't counting on anyone finding you, at least not until it was too late."

"..."

"But if that were the case, it seems to me that it would have made more sense to do it somewhere else...somewhere you were unlikely to be found at all."

"..."

"Because you've been working out of that office for about twelve years now. So surely you knew in advance that the janitor would be showing up there at some point during the night."

"..."

"And it would be kind of hard for him to miss you, passed out on the floor in front of your desk."

"..."

"The second thing that puzzles me is the method."

"..."

"You chose a drug overdose, which isn't that strange all by itself. But it wasn't a controlled substance, or even a prescription strength drug. It was just some generic, over the counter pain reliever."

"..."

"Peculiar thing about trying to kill yourself with pills...hanging yourself, shooting yourself, slitting your wrists, jumping off a building, throwing yourself in front of a bus...for the most part, those things cannot be reversed. The chances of surviving them, without immediate medical attention, is next to nothing."

"..."

"The chances of surviving an overdose of narcotics is slightly more probable."

"..."

"But the chances of surviving an over the counter drug overdose are substantially greater, especially if you're already in a hospital to begin with, and especially if your doctor knows exactly what you took."

"..."

"Which he did, seeing as you left the empty bottle in plain sight on your desk."

"..."

"Now it's safe to say, that as a medical professional, you're armed with the knowledge necessary to successfully end your own life."

"..."

"From which I can only conclude that if you _genuinely_ wanted to die, you'd know exactly how to make it happen. You'd know exactly how much you'd have to take, and of which drug, and how much time would have to pass, before you'd cross the point of no return."

"..."

"Which begs the question, did you genuinely want to die?"

"..."

"If so, why choose a method that you knew would be medically reversible? Why choose a location where you knew there was a good chance that you'd be discovered? Why leave the evidence of what you'd taken out where it could be easily found?"

"..."

"I've given this a lot of thought and I've narrowed it down to two conclusions. The first is that this was a logic based decision, meaning that it was completely premeditated. You knew exactly what you were doing when you were doing it...and you were either consciously or subconsciously _hoping_ that someone would find you in time to save your life. "

"..."

"Of course that would mean that this wasn't an official suicide attempt, but merely a cry for help."

"..."

"The second possibility is...that this wasn't premeditated at all and it _was_ a legitimate suicide attempt. But it was a completely emotional decision, a spur of the moment act of desperation. And even though you knew the odds were against it, you were just hoping that no one would find you, in time to save your life."

"..."

"The fact that the door to your office was unlocked and you didn't bother leaving a note of some sort, lends more support to the second theory."

"..."

"Would you care to shed some light on this?"

"..."

"Because I don't like to make assumptions."

"..."

"But if you don't talk to me, I'll have no choice but to speculate."

"..."

"Please talk to me, Greg. Please say something."

"..."

"If you're not ready to talk about _this_ yet, that's okay."

"..."

"We can talk about something else. We can talk about whatever you want."

"..."

"But don't shut down. Don't shut me out. Don't just give up."

"..."

"I know that it seems like a good solution. Right now it probably feels like the _only_ solution. But I assure you, that is not the case. It won't make anything better. In fact, it might even make them worse."

"..."

"Please tell me what I should do."

"..."

"Tell me what it is that I need to be doing for you. Because apparently I haven't been doing it."

"No."

"What?"

"..."

"What do you mean, _no_?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"It's...not you."

"What isn't me?"

"..."

"I don't understand."

"I mean...it's not your fault."

"..."

"I've failed _you_, not the other way around."

"How do you figure?"

"You did everything you were supposed to do and...you did it well. It just didn't work."

"You haven't _failed _me, Greg. How could you even think such a thing?"

"..."

"Can you at least tell me what you're feeling?"

"..."

"I mean physically."

"..."

"Forget about emotionally. We can deal with that later. How are you feeling, physically?"

"Like...someone roto-rootered my esophagus and then hosed out my GI tract with rancid Tabasco Sauce."

"They had to pump your stomach."

"_Kind_ of figured that's what they were doing when they strapped me down and shoved that hard, plastic tube down my throat."

"You were conscious for that?"

"Conscious enough to realize that someone was trying to shove a hard, plastic tube down my throat."

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that."

"Yeah...I'll bet."

"You think I want you to suffer?"

"..."

"You don't know how relieved I am to hear your voice."

"Can't say I've ever been told _that_ before."

"Well now you have."

"..."

"I'm not saying you have to do so immediately. But I really think you would benefit from talking about this, the sooner the better."

"..."

"The longer you put it off, the more difficult it's going to be when you finally decide to deal with it."

"You mean _if _I decide to deal with it."

"You already know that there are two things I am required to ask you. So let's just get it over with."

"..."

"First...are you planning to do this again?"

"..."

"Okay...that's fine. We can come back to that."

"..."

"And naturally the second question is...why'd you do it?"

"..."

"You do everything for a reason, Greg. I'm having a hard time believing that a decision of this magnitude would be the one exception."

"It's not."

"So you _do_ have a reason."

"Yes."

"..."

"I just...wanted out."

"Out of what?"

"..."

"Out of what, Greg?"

"Out of this body, out of this life, out of this pain...just out."

"Explain that to me."

"I'm tired."

"Tired of what?"

"Of myself."

"In what sense?"

"I'm tired of being me. It's too hard. I've had enough. I'm done. I'm ready for this to be over now."

"Did something specific happen to catalyze you're sudden desire for this to _be over_?"

"It wasn't _sudden_."

"So you've considered doing this before?"

"_Thought_ about it plenty of times. Never actually went through with it, not to this extent anyway."

"Okay...but now you _have _gone through with it. Which means that something must have changed."

"..."

"So what was it that changed? What happened to make you want to do this?"

"It wasn't any _one _thing."

"Okay...but it had to have been _one thing _that finally pushed you over the edge."

"Not necessarily."

"So it was just an accumulation of things, slowly building up over time, and they only recently reached critical mass?"

"..."

"You've had a very stressful last couple of years. You've had a number of medical emergencies and traumatic experiences. You've lost your father and two of your colleagues. You've battled with depression, chronic pain and drug and alcohol addiction."

"..."

"But I think that considering all that life has thrown at you, you've held up rather well. "

"I can't imagine what you could possibly be basing that on."

"Maybe we should consider adjusting your meds."

"No."

"Why not?"

"It won't help."

"You don't know that, unless you try."

"I _already _tried."

"..."

"I tried your therapy. I tried your drugs. They didn't work."

"Maybe we just need to increase the dosage."

"No."

"Why not?"

"..."

"You're not even willing to try?"

"..."

"Why?"

"Because I stopped taking them, okay?"

"..."

"So there's no point in discussing it any further."

"When did you stop taking them?"

"About ten days ago."

"Why on Earth would you do that, especially without consulting me first?"

"..."

"As a doctor, you know that patients have to be very carefully tapered off of psych meds, because attempting to do so cold turkey or without medical supervision has been known to lead to psychosis and suicidal behavior."

"..."

"I can't help thinking that there's a correlation between you discontinuing your meds and you feeling compelled to down an entire bottle of Tylenol."

"Are you kidding?"

"No, I'm quite serious."

"You don't get it, do you? There's no pill for _this_."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I just mean...there's no special medication, no magical dosage of anything that's going to fix what's wrong with me. And you know it. I can spend hours in therapy and try pretty much every psychoactive drug that's on the market. But it wouldn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because in the end, I would still be _me_."

"There's nothing wrong with who you are."

"Yes, there is."

"No, there isn't."

"There _has _to be."

"Why?"

"Because it's the only logical explanation."

"..."

"And you're completely useless to me, as long as you continue to cling to the ridiculous fantasy that I can be happy and well adjusted."

"..."

"I know you want to help me, and I appreciate it. I do. But you need to come to terms with the fact that there's nothing more you can do for me."

"Abandoning people when they need me most, is _not_ part of my job description."

"I don't _need_ you."

"If that's what you want to believe."

"I really don't."

"Okay, fine. Let's assume that's true. You may not need _me_. But you definitely _need_ something. And it's my job to figure out what that something is, so that I can help you attain it."

"You're not responsible for my misery."

"Maybe not. But I simply refuse to accept the notion that you are beyond help."

"And I refuse to enable your refusal to accept that notion."

"As long as you're my patient, you _will _make an effort to get better. You _will _actively participate in your own recovery."

"Then I'll just stop being your patient. There, problem solved."

"Is that really what you want?"

"..."

"Discontinuing treatment is not a solution, Greg. It's the _opposite_ of a solution."

"There _is_ no solution."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean...there's no solution. There's no _better_. There's no _recovery_. Those things might as well be fictional concepts."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because they don't exist and they never have, not for me."

"They exist, Greg. Just because you don't know what they look like..."

"No, they don't. They _don't_. And I wish to God people would stop telling me that they did. I wish they would stop waving false promises in my face and just accept that some things...don't apply to everyone."

"..."

"Nothing I do matters, doc. Nothing any of us do matters. Don't you realize that by now? This world and everything in it is just one huge practical joke."

"..."

"I could save a thousand lives, and all that people will remember is that I was rude to them, that I was unshaven, that I was dressed like a slob while I was doing it. They won't remember that I was the one who figured out what was wrong with them, or that they're still alive and breathing because of me."

"..."

"Nothing good I've done has ever made any sort of difference to anyone."

"I think you're gravely mistaken. You touch people's lives, whether they realize it or not, whether they're capable of acknowledging it or not."

"..."

"Examine the big picture, Greg. And you will see that the world is a better place, because you were here."

"Bullshit."

"Is that that you want?"

"What?"

"To matter...to affect people...to be remembered for all the good you've done?"

"I don't _want_ anything. I thought that would have been obvious. I now officially have zero expectations. _Less_ than zero, in fact."

"I don't believe that for a second."

"..."

"You must want _something_. Everyone wants something. Surely there's something that you want out of life, something important enough that your inability to attain it drove you to attempt suicide."

"I just mean...what I want is irrelevant. It's never mattered to anyone besides me and...it probably never will."

"I'm sitting right here, telling you that it _does_."

"..."

"It matters to me, Greg. What you want _matters_ to me."

"..."

"You know I really thought...some people, when they leave Mayfield, you know that they'll be back. For some it's inevitable. For some, a life outside of the walls of a psychiatric hospital is something like a fairy tale."

"..."

"But you...I was sure you that you'd gotten better. I was sure you would never set foot in that place again."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I was apparently wrong. I was blind to the extent of your issues. I discharged you prematurely, and I take full responsibility for that."

"..."

"I've spoken to your attending and I've already started the paperwork."

"The paperwork for what?"

"In light of your suicide attempt, I'm readmitting you...just as soon as he thinks you're physically stable enough to make the trip."

"..."

"How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"About what I just told you."

"..."

"Are you angry?"

"I'm not angry."

"Well then that just leaves scared."

"..."

"What are your concerns, at this point?"

"Are you going to drive me?"

"No. An ambulance will take you."

"..."

"But my son agreed to have a taxi bring him to Princeton, so that he can drive my car back home."

"Why?"

"So I can ride along with you in the ambulance."

"..."

"Is that alright? If you don't want me to ride with you, I won't."

"I don't care."

"..."

"What if I refuse to go?"

"You don't have a choice, Greg. Not this time. "

"..."

"Why do you think you're still in these restraints and there's a guard posted in front of your room?"

"..."

"Look...you made me your healthcare proxy for a reason, because you trusted me. You trusted that in the event that you were incapacitated, I would be objective. I would do whatever was best for you. And right now, I'm declaring you mentally incapacitated."

"..."

"And I want you to know that I absolutely do_ not _enjoy having to take away your control like that. Because I think there have been more than enough things in your life that were out of your control, and you've been traumatized as a result. But considering the circumstances, I cannot in all good conscience, leave you to your own devices."

"It's a waste."

"What is?"

"Trying to help me."

"Why?"

"I never learn from my mistakes. I do the same stupid things over and over again. I will take your effort for granted and eventually exasperate you, until you're forced to abandon me for relief."

"I've told you before, that I am not easily exasperated. And as long as it is in my power, I will _never_ abandon you."

"Then you're an idiot."

"If wanting to help you makes me an idiot, then I'm okay with that distinction."

"You should focus your energy on helping someone who actually has more than a snowball's chance in hell of recovering...whatever the hell that even means."

"You don't think you have a chance?"

"I _know _I don't."

"What exactly are you basing that on?"

"The last fifty years."

"I see."

"..."

"Well I obviously disagree with that assessment. But I can also accept that you have very good reasons for feeling that way."

"..."

"Is there anyone you want me to call for you?"

"Like who? Who the hell would care that I was here?"

"Your mother maybe?"

"No. "

"Why not?"

"It will just upset her."

"What about your team...or Dr. Cuddy?"

"I don't want to see anybody."

"Why not?"

"I just don't."

"..."

"I have that right, _right?"_

"Yes, you have that right."

"..."

"So you don't want to see anyone. Does that include me?"

"No...you can stay."

"And what about James? Do you want me to page him, now that you're awake?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"He knows where I am. If he wanted to be here, he would be."

"Dr. Chase said he looked in on you early this morning, when I was still asleep. I don't know how long he stayed though."

"I wouldn't count on him showing up anytime soon."

"Why not?"

"..."

"We've established that James has a hard time with confrontation. Many people are uncomfortable with the topic of suicide. Maybe he just doesn't know what to say to you and is therefore trying to avoid putting himself into a position where he'd be expected to express himself verbally."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Then what does it have to do with?"

"It's complicated."

"I'm willing to bet it's not as complicated as you think."

"And you'd be wrong."

"..."

"I moved out of the loft."

"When?"

"About two weeks ago."

"But...you just moved in."

"..."

"Why did you feel compelled to move out?"

"I didn't. Wilson asked me to leave."

"You mean that he kicked you out?"

"It was slightly more civil than that. But yes...basically."

"Did the two of you have a fight about something?"

"Not exactly."

"Then why did he ask you to move out?"

"He's getting married."

"Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_."

"I didn't even know he was dating anyone."

"I don't think Wilson considers _dating_ to be a necessary stage in the evolution of a relationship. He tends to propose first and ask questions later."

"..."

"And that's not even the best part."

"What's the best part?"

"His is bride to be is ex-wife number one."

"Samantha?"

"Yes."

"And they're really getting remarried?"

"In eleven days."

"..."

"They're not springing for a wedding this time, though. They're just going to have a small ceremony at the courthouse."

"Huh."

"Yeah, that's pretty much how I feel about it. "

"Why didn't you say something about this at our last session?"

"I don't know. I guess maybe...it didn't seem real to me yet. Either that or I was still in the denial stage."

"How long have they been seeing each other?"

"Not very long. Maybe a little less than a month."

"You're not sure?"

"I suspected that Wilson was up to something, because he was being kind of...elusive. But in light of how things went with Wilson's last relationship, I decided that I wasn't going to bother prying."

"That was mature of you."

"Yeah...and my reward for that maturity was being informed that I would have to find a new place to live."

"Hardly seems fair."

"I don't understand the point."

"Of what?"

"Of anything."

"..."

"What's the point of doing the right thing, if no one is going to give a damn? What's the point of caring, if people are only going to doubt my sincerity? What's the point of giving, when people are only going to be wary of my generosity. What's the point of me _being there _for someone else, when they're just planning to abandon me at their earliest convenience?"

"Why do you assume it's planned?"

"..."

"I'm willing to bet that most of the people who have abandoned you over the years, did not set out with the intention of doing so."

"Yes, I _drove_ them away. Hardly a more comforting explanation."

"You can't give up that easily. Much of the good we do in life goes unrewarded. We're not always going to have someone there to reinforce our positive behavior."

"..."

"You have to find some sort of intrinsic motivation. You have to find a way to derive satisfaction from the good things that you do, whether other people are willing to recognize them or not. Knowing in your heart that you did the right thing, is going to have to be enough."

"That sounds like a whole lot more trouble than it's worth."

"Nothing worth attaining comes easily, Greg."

"Nothing in my life has _ever_ come easily."

"I realize that. But you have to remind yourself that no matter how bad things are, they could be a lot worse."

* * *

_Newman, Randy. "It Feels Like Home." Studio Album By Norah Jones. Blue Note. 2004. _


	43. It Feels Like Home To Me: Part II

_Continuation of previous chapter. I thought this was going to be two parts. But it ended up longer than I thought. So it's going to be three._

**_ALSO - I wrote the conversation between House and Wilson, that he references here. It's about 5000 words. Should I post it or not?_**

_AU from the rest of the verse. Spoilers for unaired episodes of season 6._

* * *

**It Feels Like Home To Me: Part II**

"So James has only been seeing Samantha for about a month and he's already planning on marrying her?"

"Well...they _were _married for two years before. So it's not like they don't know each other."

"True. But that was almost twenty years ago. A lot of time has passed since then. And that's still a rather sudden decision to make."

"Well you know Wilson. He doesn't check the pool to make sure there's water in it, before diving in head first and blindfolded."

"You think he's making a mistake?"

"I don't know. Maybe he is and maybe he isn't. I just can't help thinking that since whatever caused their relationship to end the first time was never resolved, it will eventually resurface and demand to be reckoned with."

"Not an unreasonable observation."

"..."

"So...forgive me if it sounds like I'm oversimplifying things. But is that why you did this, because James asked you to move out of the loft?"

"No."

"Because he's getting married again, and you're feeling neglected?"

"No."

"Because you think he's trying to..."

"Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop trying to figure it out. I told you...it wasn't any _one_ thing."

"Logic suggests otherwise."

"Well then, logic is wrong."

"And when you reject logic, what does that leave you with?"

"..."

"You're responding to this emotionally. The question is why?"

"Gee...you mean you don't know?"

"The reason is fairly obvious to me. I'm just wondering if it's as obvious to you."

"..."

"I guess not."

"..."

"Maybe you're just overwhelmed...too many life changes all at once."

"That's not it."

"The fact that you know what it _isn't_ sort of implies that you know what it _is_."

"Not necessarily."

"..."

"I should be happy for him."

"Why?"

"Because a normal, healthy person would be happy for him."

"And yet for some reason, you're not."

"Obviously I'm not normal or healthy."

"I don't think your inability to derive pleasure from your friend's good fortune is the result of a neurosis, especially given the nature of your involvement."

"..."

"Greg, I don't care _how _well adjusted a person is. It's exceedingly difficult to be happy for someone, when your loss is their gain."

"..."

"But there is something about this that still isn't quite clear to me."

"What?"

"You've told me that James asked you to move out of the loft, and that he's apparently planning on getting remarried to his first wife. I can see why that might upset you. But that doesn't explain his apparent disinterest in your present condition."

"..."

"I'm guessing that there's probably more to this scenario than you're letting on."

"..."

"Right?"

"Yeah."

"So what happened?"

"Last night around seven or so, I was still in my office. My team had gone home hours earlier. I didn't have a patient to monitor. I just didn't feel like going back to the motel and wasting another evening eating take-out, watching television and falling asleep in my clothes. I...decided that spending the night in my office would be slightly less pathetic."

"..."

"My cell phone rang, around seven...seven-thirty. I meant to turn it off. But I guess I forgot. I really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. The funny thing is, I almost didn't answer it. I _almost_ let it go to voicemail."

"What changed your mind?"

"I saw the caller ID."

"And it was James."

"Yeah."

"..."

"I hadn't spoken to him in days, at least not about anything personal, and I hadn't had a real conversation with him in weeks. But curiosity got the better of me, and I picked it up after the third ring."

"And what was he calling about?"

"He was just letting me know that he and Sam had set a date to get married, and he wondered if I was interested in being his best man."

"I find it strange that he'd ask you for a favor, especially one of that magnitude, so soon after kicking you out of the apartment."

"Why?"

"Because it implies that he's either unbelievably cruel, or he's just _that_ oblivious."

"..."

"James is manipulative. But he's not malicious. Given what I know about his personality, I'd say that his actions are more a result of ignorance than anything else."

"..."

"So how did you respond to his request?"

"I said…_no thanks_."

"Did you offer him a reason?"

"No."

"But you _do_ have one."

"I have several."

"Such as?"

"Well for starters, I know that Sam can't stand me."

"So? The best man is there for the groom, not the bride."

"Yeah well...I guess I'm at a point in my life where it's no longer worth it to me to force myself on people who wish I would just disappear off the face of the planet."

"You think she wants you to disappear?"

"I was being hyperbolic. But it wouldn't surprise me to find out that she does. Her body language certainly suggests it."

"What sort of body language?"

"It's the way she looks at me."

"How does she look at you?"

"Like I'm a bug that needs to be exterminated, in order to prevent the spread of some horrible disease."

"That's...lovely."

"..."

"So _that's_ why you said no to being best man, because of Sam?"

"That and...I'm familiar enough with myself to know that I would probably only fuck it up somehow."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because everything I touch turns to shit."

"I can understand why you might feel that way. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to disagree."

"..."

"The things that happen to you are not purely the result of luck or chance. You tend to assume that things will fail and then end up proving yourself right by projecting that expectation onto them."

"..."

"I take it that this conversation between you and James took place immediately prior to you swallowing a bottle of pills?"

"..."

"Where'd you get the pills?"

"I already had them in my desk. Since I stopped taking the Vicodin, I've been going through a lot of acetaminophen. So I tend to buy the economy sized bottles...I keep one in my car, one by my bed and one in my office."

"How many milligrams did you end up taking?"

"I didn't count the individual pills. I just took one handful after another, until the bottle was empty. But if I had to estimate, I'd say I swallowed about a hundred tablets."

"So forty or fifty thousand milligrams?"

"Give or take a few."

"I've never heard of anyone ingesting that much acetaminophen and living to tell about it. "

"..."

"In fact, I've known people who have died after taking _half_ as much."

"Well...I've been taking it regularly for about twelve years now. My body's built up a resistance."

"How did James respond, when you declined his request?"

"He told me I was a miserable, selfish bastard who can't stand to see anyone else being happy."

"Is that true?"

"He seems to think it is."

"That's not what I asked."

"Yeah...I guess there's some truth to that."

"And how did you reply to that statement?"

"I didn't."

"Why not?"

"I didn't know _what_ to say. So...I hung up."

"..."

"He called back several times. But I didn't answer. I eventually turned my phone off and he settled for leaving a message."

"What did he say?"

"I didn't listen to the entire thing. But from what I gathered, he seemed to be under the impression that I _owed_ him something."

"Owed him something for what?"

"For tolerating me all these years...for letting me stay with him after I got out of Mayfield."

"..."

"Because I've apparently been a tremendous inconvenience to him, all this time."

"Did he actually use the word _tolerate_?"

"..."

"You realize that was most likely said in anger, right?"

"So?"

"So...I doubt that he _really_ feels that way about you."

"You know what? I don't care anymore."

"Sure you do."

"No, I don't."

"..."

"I just...can't believe I fell for it."

"Fell for what?"

"I can't believe I was stupid enough to think that he actually _wanted_ me there. I mean, it _seemed_ like he did, at the time. But now...I don't know what to believe."

"I don't think that makes you stupid."

"Naive then."

"I don't think it makes you naive either."

"..."

"But just for my own clarification...you _meant_ to do this."

"Well it certainly wasn't an accident."

"I get that. What I need to know is...whether or not you really wanted to die."

"I just told you, it wasn't an accident."

"But that doesn't answer my question, does it?"

"..."

"How is it that you can admit to intentionally swallowing a fatal dosage of acetaminophen, but you can't admit that it was your goal to die?"

"Because...it's pathetic."

"What is?"

"..."

"It's pathetic to _not_ want to be in pain? It's pathetic to not want to be alone? It's pathetic to long for some kind of relief, when things become too difficult to endure?"

"..."

"It's normal, Greg. It's _normal_ to want to avoid things that we know might be unpleasant. It's _normal_ to want to avoid pain."

"..."

"I'm going to ask you again, and I want you to be completely honest."

"..."

"Did you take those pills _because_ you wanted to die?"

"..."

"Don't think about it too much, Greg. Don't think about what it means. Don't obsess over what sort of conclusions I might draw, as a result. Just answer the question."

"Yes."

"_Yes_, what?"

"I did it on purpose, okay? It wasn't an accident. It was completely intentional. I knew exactly what I was doing. I _wanted_ to die. Happy now?"

"And do you _still _want to die?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because it's my job."

"It's your job to harass me into admitting how pathetic I am?"

"You're not pathetic, Greg."

"Right."

"I'm doing this because it's my job to protect you, even when that means protecting you from yourself."

"..."

"So do you still want to die?"

"I don't know."

"I need a yes or no answer."

"Well...I can't give you one."

"Why not?"

"Because...I just can't."

"..."

"I don't feel comfortable saying _yes_."

"Okay."

"But...I'd feel like I was lying if I said _no_."

"So on a scale of one to ten, ten being the most, how suicidal would you say you are right now?"

"You can't objectively measure..."

"Just answer the question."

"..."

"Just pick a number."

"..."

"On a scale of one to ten, ten being the most..."

"Five."

"So if were to release you, there's a fifty percent chance that you'd make another attempt to end your own life."

"Like I said, I'd feel like I was lying if I said _no_."

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being honest with me."

"..."

"I'm curious about something, though."

"Of course you are."

"Were you the best man at any of James's previous weddings?"

"He was already divorced from Sam, by the time we met. So I never met her until just recently. The third time Wilson got married, he eloped, in order to avoid the possibility of me attempting to throw him a bachelor party."

"So you were the best man at his second wedding."

"Yeah."

"And you threw him a bachelor party then?"

"Yep."

"And how did that go?"

"It was a disaster of epic proportions."

"How so?"

"We almost got ourselves arrested."

"Arrested for what?"

"Indecent exposure and urinating in a public place."

"I take it James wasn't too happy about that."

"Are you kidding? It was his idea."

"Huh."

"A drunk Wilson is a very different Wilson. It's a mind boggling transformation."

"How so?"

"Did you ever see _An American Werewolf in London_?"

"I can't say that I have."

"Well then, nevermind."

"But you've quit drinking, right? So assuming you attended a reception of some sort, you'd no longer be in danger of becoming overly intoxicated."

"..."

"It sounds to me like there are some other reasons why you're reluctant to participate in this ceremony. Why don't you just tell me what they are?"

"Because...they're ridiculous."

"What are?"

"My reasons."

"I doubt it."

"When Wilson bought the loft and asked me to move in with him, I thought that it was going to be…at least semi-permanent."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning that I was under the impression that I was going to be there for a while."

"How long is _a while_?"

"Six months at least."

"How exactly is that ridiculous?"

"Because I thought maybe...it was remotely possible that it might even last a little longer than that. I actually thought...maybe I'd never have to move again."

"I see."

"..."

"I still don't understand why you'd consider that to be ridiculous."

"Because no sane, well adjusted person would go out of their way to spend the remainder of their life with me...not if there was a more pleasant alternative."

"How long did the two of you share the loft, before Sam came back into the picture?"

"Three months and some odd days."

"More than a sufficient amount of time for you to get comfortable with the arrangement."

"You know Wilson and I actually sat around picking out paint colors for the kitchen and bathrooms?"

"Yes, I remember you mentioning that."

"Why I don't get, is why even bothered polling me for my opinion. I mean at the time, he was treating it like…like it was _our _home, his and mine."

"And now he's saying that it isn't?"

"The other day, he referred to it as _his_ apartment and informed me that I was just staying there temporarily, until better prospects came along."

"He actually used the words _better prospects_?"

"He implied it."

"So he didn't actually employ that particular phrase."

"..."

"I can't help thinking that you might have been projecting, interpreting the meaning of his words, based on your own insecurities."

"..."

"Because surely he couldn't have foreseen this. These are highly unusual circumstances."

"..."

"Which I realize is probably of little comfort to you. But I still feel compelled to point it out."

"Around the same time that Wilson started dating Sam, I took my piano and the rest of my other furniture out of storage, and moved them into the loft. It cost me five hundred dollars to have the piano professionally moved _and_ retuned."

"Was James aware of this?"

"He was standing right there when I paid the guy."

"..."

"I had to renew my driver's license last month and I went ahead and put the new address on it."

"Because you really believed that this living arrangement was going to last as long as it would take you to need to renew your driver's license again."

"See? I told you it was ridiculous."

"That's not ridiculous, Greg. And I don't think there's anything you're feeling right now that isn't a completely normal, human response."

"Apparently he'd only been seeing her for about three weeks, when he decided to ask her to move in."

"..."

"I've had viruses that lasted longer than that."

"..."

"And he didn't even run it by me first. _Not_ that he should have to. He shouldn't. But he didn't even bother telling me that they were dating. He gave me no indication whatsoever, that he might be asking me to move out at some point in the near future. He apparently asked her if she wanted to move in, to which she said _yes _and _then_ informed me, after the decision had already been made."

"That was fairly inconsiderate."

"I doubt he thinks so."

"How exactly did he go about informing you of the changes to your living arrangement?"

"He basically said…_here's what's happening. You need to find somewhere else to live_."

"Did he seem apologetic?"

"Not especially."

"How much time did he give you to vacate?"

"Six days."

"That's...not a lot of time."

"He seemed to think it was more than enough."

"Where have you been staying since then?"

"Motel mostly. I've slept in my office a few times."

"And where are all your things?"

"Most of them are still at the loft. But I assume that since Sam's in the process of moving in, that will be changing rather quickly. She'll probably leave them out on the lawn for me, or something to that effect."

"You have reason to believe that she would do that?"

"No, actually. She probably wouldn't. I'm just...I don't know."

"You're assuming that she's going to treat you like crap, because pretty much everyone in your life has."

"..."

"So you think the reason James isn't here now is because he's angry that you turned down the invitation to be his best man?"

"Pretty sure, yeah."

"..."

"I mean, there are other possibilities, like maybe he just doesn't give a flying fuck."

"I think it's far more likely that he's angry than it is that he just doesn't care."

"You know, when I was a kid…by the time I was in sixth grade, I had attended ten different elementary schools."

"Yeah."

"Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night and be startled by unfamiliar noises and surroundings. I'd forget where I was. I'd forget that we'd moved again."

"And that's how you feel right now, isn't it?"

"I just wonder why I even bothered."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...why let me cancel the lease on my apartment? Wilson was insistent that I stay with him after being discharged from Mayfield. And because he was in such a hurry to move into the new place, I was only able to give my landlord a week's notice. So I ended up having to forfeit my one thousand dollar security deposit. I mean, why go to the trouble to have my things moved into the loft? If I'd known it was going to turn out like this, I could have kept my apartment and left all my furniture where it was."

"I'm sure that James didn't ask you to move in with him, knowing that in a few months, he'd be asking you to move out."

"He seems to think I should have known that it was temporary."

"Is that what he said?"

"He said _come on, House…you didn't really think this was for good, did you_?"

"What did you say to that?"

"I didn't."

"..."

"He appears to be convinced that I'm fine and no longer in need of his support."

"Except that you're _not _fine and you _do_ still need his support."

"..."

"Why don't you just tell him that?"

"Because it wouldn't change anything."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"Considering the fact that you tried to kill yourself last night, I'm pretty sure it's safe to say that you aren't _fine_. If by some chance James was still in denial about your current emotional state, your suicide attempt will be rather difficult to dismiss."

"You'd be surprised what Wilson is capable of rationalizing."

"Perhaps that's why you did it. Perhaps you were hoping to let him know that you still needed him, without having to communicate that verbally."

"That has nothing to do with it."

"Are you sure?"

"..."

"I don't think you're even aware of the deeper reasons for your behavior."

"..."

"Which is fine. Most people aren't."

"..."

"I really think it would help you to confront James about this."

"Help me, maybe. Wouldn't do anything for him."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…it's not necessary to make him think that he's the reason I tried to kill myself."

"Greg…he _was_ the reason you tried to kill yourself."

"Not really, not completely."

"Okay, there were other factors. But you can't ignore the obvious cause and effect here. James agreed to be there for you, agreed to support you after you'd been discharged from Mayfield. But when he became suddenly and unexpectedly involved with his ex-wife, he was no longer available to act as your support system. Therefore he convinced himself that you no longer needed him, so that abandoning you would be okay."

"What's your point?"

"My point is...it's _not_ okay."

"He's not responsible for me."

"True. But he _is _responsible for himself."

"I just mean, he deserves to have a life."

"So do you."

"..."

"Why are you having so much trouble seeing that? Why are you having so much trouble accepting the notion that you're just as entitled to happiness as everyone else?"

"..."

"Do you have any idea where you're going to live now? I hate to state the obvious. But what you're doing at the moment, is not a permanent solution."

"I need to eventually find a place, I guess. But I haven't even started looking."

"Why not?"

"I just...don't feel like moving again, not so soon."

"But you don't really have a choice."

"I think I'm just going to stay at the motel for now."

"Why?"

"The ice machine is right outside my door and they have pay-per-view porn in high definition. What more could a guy want?"

"Didn't you say you were having financial problems?"

"I make a decent salary. I did the math. I can afford it."

"That's really the place that you want to call your home, some room at the Marriot?"

"Staying somewhere does not necessarily make it a _home_."

"True."

"And I've never really thought of anywhere as _home_ anyway."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean...that concept has no meaning for me. "

"It must have some meaning, or it wouldn't sadden you so much to talk about it."

"It's stupid."

"I'll bet it's not."

"..."

"Greg...you are a highly intelligent and perceptive individual. You have yet to say anything to me that I would classify as being _stupid_. I doubt you're going to start now."

"..."

"Why don't you just tell me what's on your mind? And then we can decide together just how _stupid_ it is."

"Living with Wilson for these past few months, was the closest I ever came to thinking of anywhere as _home_. It was the closest I'd ever come to feeling like I actually _belonged_ somewhere."

"So I imagine abruptly ending that arrangement, with no prior warning whatsoever, is having a profoundly negative effect on you."

"..."

"That is most certainly _not _stupid."

"It's like I'm a fruitcake."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to clarify that for me."

"You know how people make fruitcakes, to give as Christmas gifts?"

"Yeah."

"The funny thing about that is, nobody actually wants fruitcake. Nobody _likes_ fruitcake. So they pass it around to one another, until it's been re-gifted so many times, that's it's no longer edible, and they have an excuse to throw it away."

"Is that really how you see yourself?"

"Minus the walnuts and candied cherries, of course,"

"I don't think you're a fruitcake, Greg."

"Did you ever have a place, not necessarily even a house…but a place where you felt just right, like you belonged there, like all the people there _got _you, understood you, and wanted you around no matter what?"

"Yes."

"I haven't."

"Never?"

"It's like...I don't belong anywhere. It's like I just wasn't meant to be."

"Have you thought about telling James how you feel?"

"What's the point? It's not going to change anything. It's not like he's going to ask me to move back in."

"But at least he'd know how you feel."

"He doesn't care how I feel."

"You don't think?"

"I'm actually starting to wonder if he ever did."

"I don't doubt that James cares. What I doubt is that he possesses the ability to express that in a way that would be beneficial to you."

"You know...I fully expected Sam to monopolize Wilson's free time. I mean, that's par for the course. But I hardly ever see him at work anymore either. I actually went out of my way to take a patient the other day, who I already knew had cancer, just so that I'd have an excuse to talk to him."

"..."

"We used to eat lunch together every day, sometimes breakfast and dinner too. We haven't shared a meal in over a month."

"Why not?"

"Sam usually brings him something, and they eat it together in his office, or in the cafeteria."

"Why don't you just join them?"

"Because they haven't invited me to."

"When has that ever stopped you before?"

"It's not worth it."

"Why not?"

"I already told you, I'm done forcing myself on people. And it would only irritate him. When he was dating Amber, I bugged the hell out of him. I was constantly bartering with her for his free time. And I lost, for the most part. Funny thing is, at the time, I actually thought I had a chance."

"You didn't?"

"I later realized that if Wilson had actually _wanted_ to make himself available to me, he would have. So chasing after him like that, was a total waste of energy on my part."

"So you don't think he _wanted_ to spend any time with you?"

"Well...not as much as he wanted to spend with her."

"But you've been in love before. You know what it's like. Surely you realized that they were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, and that his enthusiasm for her would eventually wane."

"I guess I didn't feel like waiting."

"So now you don't want to put James into a position to choose between you and Sam, because you're confident that you would come in second."

"That's not why."

"It's not?"

"It's not that I'm not afraid of coming in second. It's because I'm afraid of not _coming in _at all."

* * *

_Newman, Randy. "It Feels Like Home." Studio Album By Norah Jones. Blue Note. 2004. _


	44. It Feels Like Home To Me: Part III

_Continuation of previous 2 chapters. Still AU from the remainder of the verse. Looks like this will be four parts after all._**

* * *

**

**It Feels Like Home To Me: Part III**

"You implied that it was a combination of things that led you to where you are right now. Is that correct?"

"I don't believe that was my exact phrasing. But close enough."

"Do you mind telling me what some of those things were?"

"..."

"I know you probably don't want to talk about it. But I really think you should, especially right now, when the experience is still fresh in your mind."

"It's not that I don't _want_ to talk about it. Or I should say, it's not _just_ that I don't want to talk about it."

"It's not."

"Part of it is...I don't really know where to start."

"Start anywhere, Greg. It doesn't matter."

"That and...I guess I'm not really sure what's relevant and what isn't."

"Well there's only one way to find out."

"True."

"Don't worry about organizing your thoughts. Say whatever comes to mind, and we'll navigate our way through it somehow."

"Just give me a second."

"Alright."

"Okay...I thought of something."

"Good."

"Across the street from the motel where I'm staying, there's this antique shop. I was in there the other day, just browsing through a stack of forty-fives."

"_Forty-fives_...you mean records?"

"Yes."

"..."

"Right next door to the antique store, there's this little boutique. I think it's actually owned by the same people who own the antique shop. But I'm not one hundred percent sure about that."

"What sort of boutique?"

"It's the kind of place that sells greeting cards, party supplies...collectible ornaments and figurines."

"Like a Hallmark?"

"Exactly."

"..."

"Anyway...it's not the type of place I would usually frequent, for obvious reasons. But I was bored. I didn't have anything better to do and I was already there. So I thought I'd kill some time. I'd barely taken three steps into the store when I noticed that there was this huge display of personalized teddy bears."

"_Personalized_ how?"

"I mean...they had people's names already embroidered on them."

"Ah."

"The bears with feminine names were pink, and the bears with masculine names were blue...you get the picture."

"Mmm hmm."

"I have no idea what compelled me to investigate further. Like I said, I was bored and had nothing better to do. So I picked up one of the pink ones, in order to get a better look. And I noticed the name on it was _Rachel_."

"Is the name _Rachel _significant to you in some way?"

"Not…exactly."

"Significant to someone else maybe?"

"Dr. Cuddy…remember how I told you that she'd adopted a baby?"

"Yes."

"The kid had her first birthday, this last weekend. I overheard her talking about it with some of the nurses."

"And I take it that the baby's name is Rachel?"

"Yep."

"So why a pink one?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you said there were both pink bears and blue bears. Why choose to pick up a pink one?"

"I don't know. I didn't really think about it."

"Is it possible that you chose a pink bear, because some part of you was hoping to find one with that particular name on it?"

"If that were the case, then it must have been a completely subconscious decision."

"Why?"

"Because there are millions of names. So even if I _were_ hoping to find a bear with that particular name on it, I'd be smart enough to realize that the odds of doing so were slim."

"So the selection was completely random. The fact that you happened to select a bear with that name on it, was merely a result of chance."

"Yeah."

"What did you do next?

"Well...I'm not a big gift giver. I mean, I've never been. Mostly because I tend to suck at it. But the bear was like six dollars with tax. So I went ahead and bought it. I was going to wrap it at first. But I've never been very good at wrapping presents, most likely due to lack of experience. I figured I'd just make a mess of it. So I just put it in a bag, took it with me to work so I could give it to Cuddy the next morning."

"Are you interested in her?"

"You mean romantically?"

"Yes."

"She's…got boyfriend now."

"That just means she's unavailable. It doesn't mean you're not interested."

"No, I'm not interested."

"Then what prompted you to make that purchase?"

"It's just…when she first did this whole adoption thing, I was kind of a dick about it."

"In what sense?"

"I may have implied that she was making a mistake and that she would fail, as a mother."

"You actually told her this?"

"Yes."

"Why would you say something like that?"

"I honestly didn't expect her to keep the kid this long."

"That explains why you felt that way. It doesn't tell me why you felt the need to verbalize it."

"Hey...my mouth has been getting me into trouble from the moment that I learned to speak."

"You make it sound like whatever comes out of your mouth is outside your locus of control."

"What's your point?"

"My point is...it's not. You're still accountable for the things you say, whether you meant to say them or not."

"It was a stupid thing to say. I shouldn't have said it. I have no idea why I did. Okay?"

"Okay."

"..."

"So...is she failing as a parent, just as you predicted?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"..."

"But I'm not really involved enough in her personal life to form a legitimate opinion."

"So the gift was in lieu of an apology. You were using her daughter's birthday as a convenient excuse to express remorse and acknowledge that you may have underestimated her parenting skills."

"Yeah, I guess."

"So how did you go about bestowing this gift?"

"I went to her office first thing the next morning and just handed it over."

"Did you say anything?"

"She definitely seemed confused by the gesture. "

"Did you offer an explanation?"

"A brief one."

"And what did she do when you gave her the bear?"

"She wouldn't take it."

"Why not?"

"She said that it was _inappropriate_."

"Inappropriate for what?"

"For her to accept any gifts from me."

"Because you're her employee or because you're you?"

"I'm guessing both."

"Why?"

"She claimed that from this point on, she wanted our relationship to be strictly professional."

"_Claimed_...so you think she was lying?"

"Not exactly. I just don't think professionalism was really the issue."

"Then what was?"

"I'm assuming she was under the impression that I was screwing with her, or that I had some sort of ulterior motive."

"_Did_ you have an ulterior motive?"

"Not this time."

"..."

"I mean...God. It was just a teddy bear. You'd have thought there was a bomb in it or something."

"How do you feel about that?"

"About what?"

"That she assumed you were up to no good."

"I'm kind of used to it by now."

"That doesn't mean it didn't hurt."

"..."

"How did you react to her refusal to accept your gift?"

"I didn't."

"Did you say anything?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because I had no idea what I was supposed to say."

"I take it that her reaction was unexpected."

"Yeah."

"Do you regret offering her the gift?"

"I don't know."

"If you had the chance, would you do it again?"

"No."

"That sounds like regret to me."

"..."

"So what happened to the bear?"

"I threw it in the garbage."

"Why?"

"I didn't see the point in keeping it. I sure as hell didn't have any use for it."

"Did Dr. Cuddy see you dispose of the bear?"

"I don't see how she could have."

"Have you spoken to her at all since then?"

"She brought a file to my office that same afternoon."

"She didn't say anything about the bear?"

"She didn't say anything at all, actually. She just dropped the file on my desk and walked away. I don't think she's said more than a handful of words to me since that day."

"How did that make you feel, her refusing your gift like that?"

"I don't know. I guess...on one hand, it makes sense."

"What does?"

"That she'd be wary of my intentions."

"Because you've given her reason to be, in the past."

"Yeah."

"But on the other hand...it's painful when people assume the worst about us, even if it's true."

"..."

"And it's even more painful to be reminded of the all things we've done to warrant their assumptions, especially when we're trying so hard to move forward with our lives, and put the past behind us."

"..."

"Just in case no one has told you this before...if you grow as a person and others refuse to accept it, you've still grown. If you change for the better and others refuse to acknowledge it, you've still changed. No one can take that away from you."

"I don't really feel like I've grown."

"Trust me, you have. "

"Clearly not, if my current predicament is any indication."

"Greg...life is not _all or nothing_. This setback does not automatically render all of your progress obsolete."

"..."

"So...what were some of the other things that you think might have contributed to your _current predicament_?"

"I can't think of anything, at the moment."

"Did anything else happen with James?"

"Not really, nothing significant. Just more of the same argument we've been having for the last fifteen years."

"What about your team?"

"What about them?"

"Did anything happen with them, anything that you think may have contributed to the state you're in right now?"

"Not really."

"_Not really_?"

"I mean...there was this one incident. But I'm not really sure if it's relevant."

"Just the fact that you're even thinking of it right now suggests that it probably_ is_ relevant."

"Last Tuesday, I woke up at like five o'clock in the morning and couldn't fall back asleep."

"Does that happen to you very often?"

"I generally have a difficult time waking up in the morning."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I'm more of a night person."

"I see."

"Anyway...there's nothing to do in my motel room, beside watch television. So I decided to go into work early."

"How early?"

"I got to my office at about seven-thirty, and no one else was there yet."

"What time do they normally get in?"

"It varies. If they spend the whole night monitoring a patient, sometimes they'll take the following day off. When we don't have an actual patient, they usually arrive between eight and ten. Occasionally they'll come in earlier, to eat breakfast or do paperwork."

"..."

"Now...we're not supposed to smoke within twenty feet of the buildings on campus. Technically the hospital is considered part of campus. But I didn't feel like going all the way back downstairs, _just_ so I could have a cigarette. So I went out on my balcony, and closed the door behind me to keep the smoke from wafting into my office."

"..."

"And I was still out on the balcony when my team showed up, about a half an hour later. "

"They all came at the same time?"

"Well...within a few minutes of each other."

"..."

"I was just getting ready to go back inside. But I stopped when I overheard them talking."

"You could hear them, even though the door was closed?"

"The glass is pretty thin."

"And what were they talking about?"

"Me mostly."

"They didn't see you standing out on the patio?"

"In the morning, the sun shines directly into the office."

"So that was obscuring their view."

"That and the blinds were closed."

"What did they say?"

"..."

"It was _that_ bad?"

"I guess that depends on how you define _bad_."

"How do _you _define it?"

"..."

"Just tell me what they said."

"Foreman and one of my other employees have been dating off and on for the past nine months or so. About three weeks ago, he asked her to marry him."

"Since I know you only have one female employee, can I assume that this is this the same young lady who has Huntington's Chorea?"

"Thirteen."

"Is that her actual name?"

"No...her real name is Remy Hadley. But we call her Thirteen."

"Why is that?"

"It's a long, not very interesting story."

"Okay."

"..."

"How advanced are her symptoms?"

"They're fairly mild. She could probably live as long as another ten years or so. But it's impossible to say for sure. The disease is so variable. It's possible that she could start showing signs at any time, and deteriorate completely within twelve to eighteen months."

"Is she taking any precautions to delay that?"

"She's involved in some clinical trials, and made some dietary modifications. I think she might be doing physical therapy. I haven't exactly gone out of my way to ask."

"Dr. Foreman is a neurologist?"

"That's correct."

"So I take it that he's aware of her diagnosis, and all the complications that will result."

"Yes."

"And he still wants to marry her?"

"I actually think that's _why_ he wants to marry her."

"He's got some sort of messiah complex?"

"His mother died from Alzheimer's a few months ago."

"So you think he's trying to vindicate the fact that he was unable to save his mother, by trying to save Dr. Hadley instead."

"Something like that."

"Well that's bound to backfire on him, once he realizes that we're still decades away from a cure."

"..."

"How did she respond to his proposal?"

"She said _yes_."

"So...just to recap, you were on the patio having a cigarette, when your team arrived that morning. You were about to go back inside, when you heard them talking about you."

"That's right."

"What happened then?"

"The initial topic of conversation was Thirteen and Foreman's engagement. They were talking about what kind of a wedding they wanted to have, where they were going to have it, who they were going to invite and all that."

"..."

"For some reason, Chase asked Foreman if he was planning on inviting me to their wedding."

"And how did he reply?"

"He laughed, rather heartily I might add, and said _hell __no_."

"Did he give a reason?"

"When Chase asked him why, he said _because it's an important day and I actually want to enjoy it_."

"Implying that your mere presence would be enough to ruin the experience for him."

"…"

"That...was a very unkind thing to say."

"I guess."

"How do you feel about what he said?"

"I don't know...God knows_ I've _said plenty of unkind things."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"I just mean, what comes around, goes around. That's what I get for being a jerk, right?"

"I think it's an excellent sign that you're aware of your own hypocrisies. But you should know that if you treat someone else like crap, they aren't automatically entitled to return the favor. Two wrongs do not make a right."

"What about three?"

"Do you think Dr. Foreman would have made that statement, if he'd known that you were listening?"

"I'm sure he would have."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't care. "

"What are you basing that on?"

"He's worked for me in one capacity or another for six years now, and I've caught him talking smack about me on at least a dozen occasions. He's never appeared remotely apologetic."

"I see."

"It's stupid."

"What is?"

"I don't even know why I care."

"About what?"

"About _any_ of this."

"You care because you're a human being. You have feelings, and it hurts when people say and do unkind things, whether you think you deserve them or not."

"..."

"Did you confront Dr. Foreman about what you heard?"

"Nope."

"What _did_ you do?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Did you go back inside?"

"Not immediately."

"Why not?"

"After Foreman's little comment, they proceeded to take turns listing off all the things they didn't like about me."

"All four of them?"

"Well...mostly Foreman and Taub. Chase and Thirteen didn't have much to say."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I have no idea."

"It seems as though Dr. Chase is fond of you."

"He's fond of his job."

"So that's all there is to your relationship?"

"We don't have a relationship."

"Sure you do."

"We work together."

"Working together implies a relationship."

"..."

"And you've mentioned socializing with him before, _outside_ of work, which also implies a relationship."

"..."

"How many times have you done that?"

"Done what?"

"Spent time with Dr. Chase, outside of work."

"A few times."

"How many is _a few_?"

"Five...six maybe. I haven't kept track."

"That's more than a few."

"..."

"And yet you don't think he likes you."

"_Like_ is a rather strong word. Let's just say he doesn't hate me."

"And you think that the other three do?"

"I don't have any proof...but yes."

"What are you basing that on, if you don't have any proof?"

"Plenty of things, the very least of which being what was said in my office that morning."

"Did you learn anything new?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when they were listing off all the things they didn't like about you. Did you learn anything new?"

"As a matter of fact, I did."

"What was it?"

"Apparently I'm no longer just a drug addicted asshole. Now I'm a _mentally unstable_, drug addicted asshole."

"I take it that they're aware of the time you spent at Mayfield over the summer?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. How did they come by that information? Did you volunteer it?"

"No. I'm assuming Wilson told them, either that or Cuddy."

"That's...a violation of your HIPAA rights."

"It's no big deal."

"It_ is _a big deal. That information could interfere with your professional reputation and as a result, your employment. You could actually sue them for divulging it."

"I'm not going to _sue_ anybody."

"Did you at least point that out to them, that they'd violated your confidentiality rights?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"What would be the point?"

"The point is that you have rights and it's not okay for people to violate them. "

"I violate other people's rights all the time."

"So what? That doesn't make it okay."

"Well...it's already done. So there's no use crying over spilt milk."

"True. But it's possible that asserting your rights might prevent you from spilling any milk in the future."

"I doubt it."

"It seems like you've decided that since the majority of the people in your life habitually disregard your rights, you might as well do the same."

"..."

"Does you team know that you've been sober for six months now, that you're no longer abusing drugs or alcohol?"

"If they do, they didn't hear it from me."

"Is it possible that they might have acquired that information from someone else?"

"Cuddy was the only person I told, and that definitely wasn't by choice. It was so I could get cleared for employment."

"You've indicated before that she's in the habit of sharing your personal business with others."

"She's not the greatest at keeping secrets. But I don't think she told anyone, except maybe Wilson."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not interesting."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that people, Cuddy and Wilson especially, tend to be a good deal less concerned about the things I'm doing right."

"Thus focusing their attention on all the things you're doing wrong."

"..."

"And you being sober is a good thing. Therefore it has no real gossip value."

"Exactly."

"..."

"Besides that, if by some chance my team _did _know about my sobriety, they definitely would have mentioned it by now."

"Because they care?"

"Because they're nosy and they want to screw with me."

"Do you think your team would look at you differently if they were aware that you were recovering from your addictions?"

"Nope. Which is precisely why I didn't bother sharing it with them."

"And James doesn't know either?"

"Like I said, Cuddy may have told him. But I haven't asked him to fill a script for me since before I was committed."

"So?"

"So I assume he put one and one together, and realized that I had either found someone else to prescribe for me, or I was no longer on the Vicodin. And logic points to the latter of those things."

"But the two of you never talked about it."

"No."

"What were you doing while you're team was sitting around, discussing you like that?"

"Nothing."

"So you just…stood there and listened."

"Pretty much."

"Why?"

"Curious, I guess."

"How long did you listen, before it became unbearable?"

"Oh...about five minutes or so."

"What other things did they say?"

"..."

"You can be vague, if you'd rather not repeat it verbatim."

"Let's just say that they were expressing some rather strong opinions on aspects of my life that they know absolutely nothing about."

"Ah."

"..."

"That couldn't have been easy for you to hear."

"..."

"And you weren't the least bit tempted to storm in there and set them straight?"

"_Tempted?_ Sure."

"But you didn't go through with it. Why?"

"Because it wouldn't have changed anything."

"You must have eventually gone back inside. How did that transpire?"

"I sent them all a fake page."

"Why did you do that?"

"To put an end to the conversation and get them out of the office."

"You didn't want them to know that you'd heard what they'd said."

"…"

"Why not?"

"Because they'd stumble their way through some bullshit apology, which they'd only be issuing because they think they're supposed to. They wouldn't actually _be_ sorry. They just wouldn't want to risk losing their precious jobs."

"Do you _want_ to attend Dr. Foreman and Dr. Hadley's wedding?"

"I haven't really thought about it."

"So think about it now."

"I don't even know when it is."

"But if they invited you, would you go?"

"Assuming they don't find some reason to break up before then? No."

"Why not?"

"Because I already know that they don't want me there."

".."

"Or he doesn't, at least. She never actually said."

"Do you think _she_ would want you to be there?"

"I can't think of any reason why she would."

"..."

"Nothing they said was exactly a shock. I kind of already suspected that they felt that way."

"Still...it's a little different to actually hear it."

"..."

"Did Dr. Chase and his wife invite you to their wedding?"

"Yeah...but I didn't go."

"That's right. That was the day you were committed."

"..."

"Would you have gone, had you been available?"

"I don't know. Probably not."

"Why not?"

"I'm just...I've never been comfortable at parties or large gatherings."

"Have you always felt that way, or is that a product of your physical disability?"

"I guess I've always been that way. The infarction just made it worse."

"Did you get them a gift?"

"I actually thought about it. But then things got a little crazy. I was distracted by the whole _hallucinating Wilson's dead girlfriend _thing. I was planning on giving them something when I came back to work, although I still hadn't figured out what. But I didn't get a chance."

"Why didn't you get a chance?"

"Because they split up about ten days after my return."

"That's pretty quick."

"..."

"Did that come as a surprise to you?"

"Not really."

"You didn't think their relationship would last?"

"I thought they'd stick it out a little longer than that. But no, not really."

"Why not?"

"She never loved him. She just...thought she did."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know _her_. I know how her mind works."

"Did he love her?"

"Yes...I'm sure he still does. He probably always will."

"So why do you think she married him, if it wasn't for love?"

"She was married once before, when she was in her early twenties."

"She got divorced?"

"No. Her husband had cancer. He'd already been diagnosed when they met. He died within a year, when it metastasized to his brain."

"That's very unfortunate."

"I'm assuming she was scarred by that experience."

"Why?"

"Because instead of making an effort to recover from that loss, she intentionally set the bar higher than she knew anyone else would ever be able to reach."

"So that way, anyone she dated from that point forward would be compared to the man she'd lost."

"_And_ inevitably fail to measure up."

"So she didn't think that Dr. Chase wasn't good enough for her?"

"I don't know. Thing is...Chase is good looking, intelligent, decent and employed. He'd never beat her, lie to her, cheat on her, or take her for granted. Logically speaking, she should have been happy with him. I think she took all of that into consideration and was hoping that it would be enough."

"But it wasn't."

"Apparently not."

"Let's get back to what happened in your office that morning."

"Oh, let's not."

"You haven't really given me a straight answer, and I'm curious how you feel about the things that were said."

"I don't know. I mean...they're well within their rights to hate me. And I've given them plenty of reasons, believe me."

"I actually doubt it...but let's just assume for a moment that they _do_ hate you. They certainly have that right, and they may even have some very good reasons for feeling that way. But that doesn't mean that it didn't hurt you to hear those things."

"..."

"Let me ask you something."

"Okay."

"Do you wish that they liked you?"

"You mean my team?"

"Yes."

"I guess...sometimes."

"Why?"

"Sometimes I just think it would be easier."

"..."

"But on the flip side of that, I honestly think that if I had a more informal relationship with my employees, I would cease to be an effective a boss."

"So you maintain that barrier of space between you, in order to be a more effective boss."

"Yeah."

"Is it possible that you're also maintaining that barrier of space between you, in order to protect yourself from being hurt or rejected?"

"..."

"Perhaps you're not quite ready to go there yet."

"..."

"So what about what happened with Dr. Cuddy?"

"What about it?"

"You didn't give me a straight answer about that either. How do you feel about her refusing your gift?"

"I'm fine with it."

"If you really were _fine_ with that experience, you probably wouldn't have felt compelled to share the details of it with me."

"Hey...she had the right to refuse the gift."

"True."

"I had no right to expect anything from her."

"Clarify that for me."

"I mean, she doesn't owe me anything."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"I just...it was a mistake, that's all. I shouldn't have bought the bear. I shouldn't have tried to give it to her. It was a mistake."

"You don't believe that."

"How the hell do you know?"

"Well for starters, the way you chose to dispose of the gift suggests otherwise."

"..."

"There's nothing wrong with what you did, Greg. It was a nice thing."

"..."

"Where did you dispose of the bear?"

"Trash can in the lobby."

"And how were you feeling when you did that?"

"..."

"Were you sad, hurt...angry?"

"Why does it matter?"

"It matters that you can acknowledge the fact that something has affected you. Especially when that something is _continuing_ to affect you."

"..."

"It also matters that you can recognize how and why something has affected you. Otherwise how are you supposed to confront it?"

"I confronted it."

"How?"

"I swallowed an economy sized bottle of Tylenol and had to have my stomach pumped. How much more confrontation could you possibly want?"

"Greg, that's not confrontation. It's the opposite of confrontation. You didn't face your problems. You ran away from them."

"..."

"Are you at least prepared to admit that you were affected, both by what happened in your office that morning and by Dr. Cuddy's refusal of your gift?"

"Oh for God's sake..._yes_."

"And in what way were you affected?"

"Give me a break..."

"Why can't you answer the question?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"You already _know_ how I was affected."

"So?"

"So there's no need to keep trying to beat it out of me."

"I'm asking you questions, Greg. I haven't raised my voice at any point during this conversation. I haven't made any demands. I'm hardly _beating_ it out of you."

"I just don't understand why it's necessary for you to harass me like this."

"How am I harassing you?"

"It's the middle of the night. And you're just..._standing_ there, yakking away, as though it's perfectly normal for us to be conducting a conversation while I'm wearing full body restraints."

"I'm doing my job."

"You mean by driving me to distraction with your pointless interrogation?"

"No...I mean by encouraging you to provide any information that might be relevant to your situation or that might assist me in treating you."

"..."

"And in case you were wondering, that includes all the things that it makes you uncomfortable to discuss."

"..."

"You've neglected yourself for far too long. You've ignored your problems for too long. You need to deal with them, before they destroy you."

"Are you blind? They've already destroyed me."

"I'm going to ask you this _one_ last time. In what way would you say that were you affected by these experiences?"

"..."

"What do you think is going to happen, Greg? What's do you think is going to happen if you admit it?"

"..."

"Is the world going to come to an end? Will it tear a hole in the fabric of space?"

"I was hurt."

"..."

"I was hurt, okay? That's what you want to hear, right? I mean, I thought that would have been painfully obvious. But I guess not."

"Tell me more about that."

"There's nothing to tell."

"What hurts?"

"I don't know."

"We both know that you do."

"..."

"Why don't you just get it out, so you can move on?"

"It hurts me when people treat me like I'm the spawn of Satan. It hurts me when people act like I'm incapable of doing anything remotely decent. It hurts me when people talk about me behind my back. It hurts me when people care more about all the ways in which I've fucked up my life, than they do about the few things I've managed to do right. And frankly, I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of playing this game. I'm tired of sucking it up. I'm tired of pretending that nothing matters or that my being alone is a choice. I just want something in my life to go right for once. Is that so wrong?"

"No Greg, it's not wrong at all."

* * *

_Newman, Randy. "It Feels Like Home." Studio Album By Norah Jones. Blue Note. 2004. _


	45. It Feels Like Home To Me: Part IV

_I lied again. Don't believe anything I say. This will have five parts. Thanks for waiting._**

* * *

**

**It Feels Like Home to Me: Part IV**

"So...do you think maybe I can remove these restraints?"

"I'm pretty sure you don't need my permission to do that."

"No...but I need some kind of verification that doing so wouldn't be a mistake."

"And you actually think I'd tell you if it were?"

"You admitted to being suicidal, Greg. Therefore I need to know that if I remove these restraints, you can be trusted not to harm yourself."

"Well let's see...we're not near any ledges. I don't have access to any sharp objects or medication. Just what do you think I'm going to do, hold my breath until I pass out? Or maybe I could just put my hands around my throat and choke myself to death."

"Hey...you'd be surprised. A patient of mine once smothered himself with a pillow."

"Did he die?"

"Thankfully, no. He just hypoventilated."

"A for effort."

"Still...I need an answer."

"To what?"

"Can I trust you?"

"If by some chance I _were_ going to kill myself, I would attempt to do so as quickly and painlessly as possible. So that eliminates all the less desirable, albeit trendier options, like hanging myself with a bedsheet, driving my car off a bridge, or flinging my body into the path of an oncoming train."

"Alright."

"..."

"I just needed to make sure that there wasn't any misunderstanding between us."

"Misunderstanding about what?"

"About why I'm removing the restraints."

"Yes...because I was totally planning on making a break for it, the second your head was turned. Forget the fact that I'm physically handicapped and recovering from dual organ system failure."

"..."

"You could be blindfolded and wearing roller skates _and_ give me a ten minute head start, and you'd probably still beat me to the exit."

"I realize that."

"..."

"And you know that I'm still legally obligated to get verbal confirmation."

"And now you have."

"Great."

"..."

"So now that we've broken the ice, so to speak...has anything else happened to you recently, anything that you think might be relevant to this discussion?"

"Probably."

"Such as?"

"I don't know. It's like one o'clock in the morning. I'm tired. I don't feel like forming any cohesive thoughts, let alone trying to convey them to someone else."

"You're tired?"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"You've only been conscious for the last forty-five minutes."

"So?"

"So...you've hardly been _deprived_ of rest."

"You don't reap the same benefits from unconsciousness that you do from slow wave sleep, which as a doctor you should already know."

"..."

"And even if you did, fatigue and lethargy are both common side effects of the hemodialysis. So theoretically I could sleep all day and still end up being tired."

"That's true...and I certainly wasn't attempting to sound inconsiderate. It's just that I've been sitting here with you for the last twelve hours. I know you don't remember the time you spent being unconscious, but I do. I witnessed every minute of it. So surely you can appreciate how that might have altered my perspective on the matter."

"I get it. Your goal is to just keep me talking about this as long as possible, while the events are still fresh in my mind, and I can't do that if I'm sleeping or unconscious."

"I'm glad you understand."

"..."

"So did anything else happen with James?"

"Like I said, probably. But there's nothing I can think of, at the moment."

"What about Dr. Cuddy?"

"Same story."

"How about your team?"

"Nope."

"How about your mom?"

"Now you're just getting desperate."

"I'm going to keep fishing until I get a bite."

"I haven't spoken to her in over a week and all we talked about was the fact that her grocery store refuses to honor double coupons...which as you can imagine, was a very exciting conversation."

"What about something related strictly to your job, or something involving a patient?"

"I don't really interact with all that many patients."

"At all or just recently?"

"At all."

"How do you manage that?"

"I tend to steer clear of them, whenever possible. Half the time, I don't even bother to meet the ones I'm diagnosing."

"But you must have seen some patients, at some point."

"Well sure...the hospital probably wouldn't keep paying me, if I didn't."

"So...any noteworthy encounters?"

"..."

"Just think about it, for a minute."

"Well...there was this one thing that happened in the clinic, the other day. The only reason I didn't mention it sooner, is because I didn't think too much of it at the time. But since you seem to be scraping the bottom of the barrel, I might as well share."

"Yes, please do."

"This was...it had to have been a little over two weeks ago. My team had just finished up a case and hadn't yet acquired a new patient. So I thought I'd spend the day in the clinic, catching up on all the hours I owe."

"Why did you feel compelled to do that?"

"We're required to put in forty clinic hours, per month. And I was about twenty hours behind my quota."

"I understand that you were fulfilling a professional obligation. What I don't understand is what encouraged you to do so proactively...especially since you've told me on numerous occasions, that you hate working in the clinic."

"It was sort of an experiment."

"What kind of experiment?"

"I wanted to see if I could make it through an entire day."

"Make it through an entire day, doing what?"

"Without being rude to anyone."

"That's an admirable endeavor."

"A wasted one is more like it."

"It wasn't successful?"

"It was, actually."

"You were polite to everyone?"

"Well...for the most part. I mean, there was one guy who called me a dick, because I refused to give him any Codeine. But I think that was just the withdrawals talking."

"He reacted violently?"

"He probably would have, if I'd given him a chance. I had security escort him out."

"Then how was your experiment a waste?"

"We have this box in the lobby, right between the elevators. There's a stack of index cards...patients and their families are encouraged to write down their comments, complaints and suggestions."

"So I take it that someone complained about you?"

"Not exactly."

"..."

"I'd seen this sixty-two year old woman, first thing that morning. Apparently she took the time to fill out one of those cards."

"What was her reason for coming into the clinic?"

"She was tired...more so than usual, more so than she should have been, even taking into consideration her age. She'd been experiencing periodic syncope for the past few months. I suspected that she was anemic and sent her blood to the lab to be tested. She seemed really anxious about having to be in a hospital and the lab wasn't particularly busy. So I asked the techs to rush it."

"Did they comply?"

"I had the results in my hand in less than thirty minutes."

"So was the patient anemic?"

"Yeah...she was also dehydrated and had a magnesium deficiency. I wrote her a script for iron supplements. She was very adamant about not wanting to be admitted. She was apprehensive about being there in the first place. So I just stuck her in one of the vacant exam rooms and hung a banana bag. Apparently she'd taken the bus to the clinic. But considering her recent history of syncope, I thought it would be safer if someone else drove her home. So I tracked down her son, and he agreed to come pick her up."

"That was thoughtful of you."

"I guess."

"You don't think that was thoughtful?"

"..."

"You did a good thing, Greg. You had nothing to lose or gain from helping this woman, and you chose to do it anyway. It's okay to acknowledge that. It's okay to be pleased with yourself."

"..."

"Baby steps, I guess."

"..."

"So what did this woman have to say about the quality of your care?"

"Well...nothing bad."

"Then that just leaves good."

"..."

"What did she say?"

"She said that I was patient, understanding, knowledgeable and helpful."

"And yet you don't sound too happy about her praise."

"..."

"Why?"

"It's just...it was weird."

"What was weird about it?"

"You would have thought she was talking about someone else."

"You don't think you're patient, understanding, knowledgeable or helpful?"

"..."

"I'll take that as a _no_."

"I guess I _can_ be. I mean, probably _anyone_ can be. I'm just generally not."

"Not just _anyone_ can be those things, Greg. Why would you assume that?"

"..."

"You think the only reason you'd be able to do something like that is if anyone could do it?"

"..."

"I find that ironic, given the degree of notoriety you've attained in your given field."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that there's obviously something special about you, that separates you from your peers."

"..."

"You don't agree?"

"Different kind of special."

"I see."

"..."

"So how did you discover that this woman had submitted feedback about your performance?"

"Cuddy likes to empty the box about once a week. The clinic nurses usually take care of it. They organize the cards, put them in envelopes, and then distribute them, so they can be reviewed by the appropriate department heads."

"So they gave you the card?"

"Well...not right away."

"Why not right away?"

"I they wanted to have a little fun with it first."

"Explain."

"I literally spent the entire day working in the clinic, which I've only done a handful of times. But it was the most time I'd spent on my feet in a while. So when four o'clock came, I was ready to go back to my office and crash. I was just finishing up with my last patient, when I overheard several nurses at the front desk...entertaining themselves."

"Entertaining themselves how?"

"By reading what had been written on the card."

"You mean that they were mocking this woman's input?"

"More like mocking _me_. But yeah, basically."

"Did they realize that you could hear them?"

"I don't think so."

"Do you think it would have mattered if they had?"

"I don't know. Probably not."

"..."

"The funny thing is, I've never had a single conversation with any of those nurses. I don't even know their names."

"And yet they seemed to think they knew all about you."

"Yeah."

"Do you find people doing that often, passing judgment on you, without acknowledging all the pertinent information?"

"Only every second of every day."

"And now you're wondering why the hell you bothered, whether or not your effort to do the right thing or be a better person was a waste."

"..."

"Greg, you can't let other people's closed mindedness discourage you."

"Yeah...I think it's a bit late for that."

"What do you mean?"

"It's already done. There's no going back. You can't just get up one morning and choose_ not _to be jaded."

"True...but chances are, you didn't become jaded overnight. It probably took years."

"..."

"And it's been my experience that most of things in life that come quickly or easily, don't tend to last very long."

"Nothing in my life has come quickly or easily."

"..."

"And either way, it doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because there's nothing anyone can do about it."

"..."

"You can't help me. Nobody can."

"Is that so?"

"You can't fix me. You can't change me."

"You think I want to change you?"

"I just mean, you can't undo the damage that's been done."

"Why not?"

"Because _this_ is who I am. This is who I'm always going to be."

"I've told you repeatedly that there's nothing _wrong_ with who you are."

"Yeah...and I'm supposed to just snap my fingers and start believing that, when I've spent the past five decades being told otherwise? Brilliant plan. I'll get right on it."

"You have to take it one day at a time, Greg."

"..."

"It's not just a cliché. I say it because it works, because I've _seen_ it work."

"..."

"It means learning how to deal with what's right in front of you at the moment, and letting everything else worry about itself."

"Maybe I don't want to."

"..."

"Maybe I've had enough. Maybe...I'm tired of having to struggle with even the simplest of things."

"It's understandable that you'd feel that way. But what you seem to be overlooking is that it's entirely in your hands."

"Right...I'm _really_ in control here. That's why everything in my life is going so well."

"You're not _in control_. But you _do_ have a choice. You can give up. You can surrender. You can admit defeat and become a casualty of your own inner conflicts...or you can cling to hope and keep on fighting."

"..."

"And you already know that if you _do _try, it's possible that you might succeed. The odds aren't great. But they're definitely better than nothing."

"..."

"But if you don't try at all, your odds of success are fairly non-existent."

"..."

"Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"I don't even understand what the hell you're _doing_ here."

"What is it about my presence that confuses you?"

"..."

"I'm here because you need me to be."

"Haven't we covered this? I don't _need_ you."

"If that's what you'd prefer to tell yourself."

"It's what I prefer to tell myself, because it's true."

"Okay. But I want you to know…even if you don't believe it, even if for some reason you can't seem to feel it…that I care about you."

"Why?"

"I just do."

"That's not a good enough reason."

"It is for me."

"..."

"Whether you like it or not, you're special. I didn't plan it. I certainly never would have predicted it. But that's the way it turned out."

"..."

"And I don't regret it. I don't regret any of the time I've invested in you."

"..."

"Do you seriously think that I'd do all these things for just _any _patient?"

"What_ things_?"

"I drove seventy miles in rush hour traffic. I had to cancel all of today's appointments, and will probably have to cancel tomorrow's as well. I spent the night sleeping in this chair. I've had nothing to eat but a bag of stale trail mix from the vending machine, and I've survived twelve hours without using the restroom."

"Good for you. You want a medal?"

"I don't _want_ anything."

"Then why bother mentioning it?"

"Because I don't want there to be any confusion regarding my intentions."

"..."

"I did all of those things for a reason."

"..."

"I didn't want you to wake up alone."

"..."

"I wanted the first thing you experienced, upon regaining consciousness, to be the feeling of someone being genuinely relieved that you were okay. And by the look on your face right now, I'd say you've been longing for just that. "

"..."

"I'd say that you _long_ to have someone love you that much."

"What you're feeling for me isn't _love_."

"Really? How do you know?"

"I just _know_."

"Then what is it?"

"It's pity."

"..."

"I'm pathetic and you feel sorry for me...and that's _not_ love."

"Given what I know about your frame of reference, I find it highly unlikely that you'd be able to tell the difference between those things."

"..."

"What I feel for you is not pity, Greg. It's compassion. And you can't have compassion without first having some degree of..."

"_Stop_."

"Stop what?"

"Just...stop. I don't want to hear it. Stop trying to make this into something more than it really is."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're the doctor and I'm just your patient. That's all."

"True…except for the _just_ part."

"..."

"You're also a human being."

"A human being who happens to be your patient."

"Why does that matter?"

"..."

"Is my affinity for you less real, because of the nature of our association?"

"..."

"I can't help how I feel, Greg. I can't explain it. There's no logic at work here."

"..."

"But it's not something I can just turn off or ignore. And I'm not going to deny it, just because the idea of being cared about makes you uncomfortable."

"..."

"Whether you're ready to accept it or not, that woman's perception of you was every bit as valid as anyone else's. You _are_ patient, understanding, knowledgeable and helpful...even if most people have trouble seeing it. If people look at you and they _can't_ see it...screw them. They're just not looking hard enough."

"She knew me for all of ninety minutes, hardly an adequate amount of time to develop an accurate assessment of someone's true character."

"It's more than enough time, Greg."

"..."

"Contrary to what you might have been told, you _are_ capable of goodness. You are so much kinder and more generous than you'd ever give yourself credit for."

"..."

"You're standing in your own way, Greg. At this point, you're your own worst enemy. You just can't seem to believe that things could be any better than they are right now."

"..."

"But you must first _believe_ that you can get better, before you can succeed in doing so."

"..."

"And you need to stop resisting my efforts and trust me to help you do that."

"It's not about trust."

"You don't think?"

"..."

"You've gone through some major life changes over the past few years, a number of which have had a profoundly negative impact on your life."

"..."

"Due to a combination of recent events, you finally reached your breaking point."

"..."

"And what did you do? Did you trust me to help you with that? Did you reach out for my assistance? Did you call and tell me that you were having a rough time? "

"..."

"No. You swallowed a bottle of pills instead."

"..."

"Meanwhile, you _could_ have called me. I would have been there for you, if you'd given me the chance. You could have told me how you were feeling and I could have talked you through it. We could have worked it out together."

"You don't know that."

"I know that whatever it was I could have done for you, it would have been a significant improvement on what you ended up doing to yourself."

" ..."

"You're currently marinating in the juices of your own dysfunction and you've gotten way too comfortable with it. And you're terrified. Because you know that what you're doing right now isn't working, and probably hasn't worked in a long time. You know that it's time for a change."

"..."

"You know that you're running out of ways to cope. You're panicking because you've been backed into a corner, and you've just realized that the only way you're going to escape that predicament is by allowing someone else to assist you."

"..."

"And that's as scary as hell. Because it doesn't _just_ mean asking someone else for help. It also means that anyone who agrees to help you could just as easily disappear. They could abandon you at the first available opportunity."

"..."

"So why _didn't_ you call me?"

"..."

"Maybe you didn't want to be stopped."

"Or maybe I just didn't want to bother you with my problems."

"First of all, you need to dispense with the misconception that you exist just to annoy and inconvenience others."

"..."

"And second...I wouldn't have given you my home phone number, unless I fully expected you to use it at some point."

"..."

"I would prefer you to wake me up at two o'clock in the morning, if the alternative would be attending your funeral a few days later."

"..."

"You need to cut yourself some slack. You'd rather allow people to think that you're selfish, than lonely. Because loneliness implies need. And if you don't need anything, then no one can control you, and it doesn't matter whether or not people withhold their approval and their affection. You take whatever you can grab, because you're convinced that otherwise, you'd go empty handed."

"..."

"The problem is that you _do_ have needs, and the fact that they've gone so long without being met has finally caught up with you."

"..."

"What is it that you want, Greg? What would you like to see come of this?"

"I don't care."

"Somehow I doubt it."

"What I mean is...I no longer have any expectations."

"Of what?"

"Of _anything_."

"There must be something that you want."

"Right now, I just want to go home."

"But you know that's not going to happen, at least not right at this very moment."

"Yeah...that was kind of my point."

"I don't understand."

"I _can't_ go home. "

"Why not?"

"..."

"Why not, Greg?"

"Because I have no _home_ to go _to_."

"..."

"I'm not sure if I ever did."

"..."

"I mean, I thought _maybe_ I'd found it. I thought maybe...I don't know what I thought. But I guess I was wrong."

"We can figure this out, you know."

"There's nothing to figure out. There's no big mystery here."

"We can figure out where you belong. "

"You're assuming that such a place even exists."

"It does."

"But you don't know that."

"One way or another, you _will_ find your way home."

"How?"

"I don't know...yet."

"..."

"But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get you there. And we won't stop trying until we've worked it all out."

* * *

_Newman, Randy. "It Feels Like Home." Studio Album By Norah Jones. Blue Note. 2004. _


	46. It Feels Like Home to Me: Part V

_I lied. There will be six parts. Don't believe anything I say. Seriously_.

* * *

**It Feels Like Home to Me: Part V**

"So what do you think?"

"About what?"

"Are you in this for the long haul? Are you going to trust me to help you sort this out?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you have a choice. I can drug you, strap you down and confine you to a padded cell. But all of that is fairly useless, if you're unwilling to participate."

"..."

"My goal is to get you to take an interest in your own recovery. And we both know that's not something that can be achieved by force."

"..."

"Think about what it is that you want, Greg."

"..."

"What it would take for you to believe that you can beat this and emerge victorious?"

"I want you to swear."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I want you to swear."

"Swear to what?"

"Swear to me that if I let you help me, that if I do this, that it isn't going to be a waste of time and energy."

"..."

"Swear to me that I'll get better. Swear to me that this time, it will work."

"I'm sorry...but I can't do that."

"..."

"And you _know_ that I can't do that."

"..."

"Greg…there are no guarantees in life, good or bad. And I don't feel comfortable leading you to believe that there are."

"..."

"Because I could promise you that everything is going to be fine, and I could definitely mean it. But then...things can happen, things that are completely out of my control, and you could very well end up disappointed."

"So you're saying that you're okay with me being disappointed, as long as I can't pin it on you."

"No...that's not what I'm saying at all. Whether or not your therapy is successful is dependent on a multitude of things, including your own effort and attitude towards the concept of recovery. "

"..."

"I know it might not seem like it, and I doubt that it feels like it. But at this moment, the person with the most control over the situation is you."

"..."

"I can't promise you that everything is going to be fine, because I don't have any way of knowing for sure that it will be. I really and truly wish that I could give you that. If I could, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But I can't."

"..."

"But there is one thing I _can_ promise you."

"What's that?"

"No matter what happens, you can count on me to be honest."

"..."

" I will never hide anything from you and I will always tell you the truth."

"..."

"And I will expect nothing in exchange for that, except for you to do the same."

"..."

"Because I can't help you, unless I can trust you to disclose any and all information that might be relevant to your mental health. I can't help you solve your problems, unless I know exactly what those problems are."

"..."

"Does that make sense?"

"..."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You made a rather sour expression just now."

"..."

"Was it something I said?"

"Possibly."

"..."

"I...have a confession to make."

"Alright."

"Although...I should have probably made that plural."

"_Confessions_ then."

"Remember when I told you it wasn't _any one thing_?"

"Any one thing what?"

"That made me want to..._you_ know."

"Ah...yes."

"..."

"That was a lie?"

"..."

"So it _was_ one thing?"

"No. I mean it wasn't…_really_. It was a lot of things, some of which I can't even remember at the moment. But it was like you said."

"That there was one thing that pushed you over the edge?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to tell me what it was?"

"..."

"I know you brought it up for a reason. You want to talk about it. You wouldn't have brought it up if you didn't want to talk about it."

"Wanting to do something and being _able_ to do it are two different things."

"True."

"There's so much that you don't know."

"About you?"

"Not just me."

"So what is it that don't I know?"

"Thing is...I want to make something clear, before I share anything else with you."

"Okay."

"I'm not anybody's victim."

"I never said you were."

"But I know that from your perspective it might seem...things might seem really one sided. I mean, I know how this must look from where you're sitting. But see...you don't know why things are the way they are. You don't know the whole story."

"So _tell_ me the whole story."

"I lost count."

"Of what?"

"Of all the ways I've screwed with him, of all the ways I've fucked up his life. I lost count of all the money I've borrowed and never bothered to give back, of all the times I've almost gotten him fired or interfered in some way with his patients, of all the relationships I've cost him over the years…"

"I'm assuming you mean James?"

"..."

"So...you feel like you deserve to be treated poorly, that you owe him something for the time you spent together, some sort of compensation for being willing to tolerate your company?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"That's pretty much what it sounds like."

"I just thought…taking into consideration the way things ended up the last time..."

"Last time...you mean with Amber?"

"I keep thinking...if I wasn't around, they'd probably still be together. Hell they'd probably be married with kids, by now."

"First of all, if you weren't around, they would have never met. Second of all, James isn't a victim either. He's a grown man, capable of asserting his rights, should he feel the need to. In other words, he has a choice. Whether he wants to believe it or not, being your friend is a choice. And if he really thought that you were putting his life, his job or his other relationships in danger, he would have taken steps to rectify that a long time ago."

"Yeah, he pretty much tried to do that already."

"_Tried_ being the operative word there. He still came back. Whether he's willing to accept it or not, that was his choice."

"..."

"The door swings both ways, Greg. If you're responsible for your actions, for the things you say and for the choices that you make, then so is he."

"..."

"And even if there were a kernel of truth buried in there somewhere, what exactly do you think you could gain by dwelling on it?"

"I have no idea."

"So what -if anything- does any of this have to do with your suicide attempt?"

"I just thought...I thought it would be better."

"You thought _what_ would be better?"

"I thought...maybe with me out of the way, he could finally have the life he's always wanted."

"And why would you think that?"

"Because I wouldn't be there anymore to screw it up."

"So your solution is to sacrifice your life, in order to improve the quality of his."

"..."

"Why would you have to die, in order to facilitate that?"

"..."

"If your goal was to merely spare James the burden of your presence, couldn't you just as easily find work elsewhere or perhaps relocate to a different city?"

"I probably could...except that I have no self control to speak of."

"You mean that you don't possess the willpower necessary to maintain whatever boundaries you might attempt to establish."

"In the beginning, I'd probably manage. But knowing me, I'd eventually end up stalking him, until he was forced to file a restraining order...or buy a gun."

"I still don't understand why you'd be willing to sacrifice your life, in order to improve the quality of his."

"..."

"What exactly has he done to be worthy of such an honor?"

"He's...see _this_ is what I was talking about. There's a lot you don't know. He's..._been_ there for me."

"In what capacity?"

"After the infarction, when I was recuperating, he came over almost every day."

"That was a long time ago, Greg. A lot has happened since then."

"He let me move in with him after you discharged me."

"And he kicked you out without any sort of warning, because he suddenly decided to marry a woman who he'd been dating for five weeks and who he hadn't seen in over seventeen years."

"Still...there have been other times when he was supportive."

"Really? Name one."

"..."

"You can't, can you?"

"..."

"But you still feel like you owe him something for that...for taking care of you after your surgery, for opening his home to you, albeit rather temporarily."

"It's not about _owing_. It's just...I don't know."

"I'm curious about something."

"Of course you are."

"Well I don't believe you've ever told me before."

"What?"

"Under what circumstances did you and James meet?"

"Uh...we were both attending a medical conference in New Orleans. I was at the hotel bar and he was sitting on the stool next to mine."

"And you just…struck up a conversation?"

"Actually no. I didn't say anything to him at that point."

"Explain."

"There was this one guy there, big biker type, shooting pool by himself. He kept playing the same song on the jukebox over and over again."

"What song? "

"_Leave a Tender Moment Alone_."

"That's a great song."

"The first three times, maybe. After hearing it about twenty times in a row, you start wanting to puncture your own eardrums for relief."

"So I take it that you expressed your dissatisfaction with this gentleman's musical selections?"

"No…Wilson did."

"That's...he's not usually type to initiate confrontation."

"Well he wasn't in a particularly good mood."

"Why not?"

"It had to have been the most chicken shit move I've ever seen. I mean, she waited until he was three thousand miles away to have him served with divorce papers. I'm thinking that was probably why he was drinking in the first place."

"_She_...you mean Sam?"

"Yes."

"So James was already stressed out, due to the recent demise of his marriage, and the guy who was monopolizing the jukebox just happened to be what pushed him past his breaking point."

"Pretty much."

"How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That he'd been served with divorce papers."

"He was carrying them around. I sneaked a peek, when we were sitting at the bar."

"..."

"Anyway...the guy wasn't terribly receptive to Wilson's criticism, and he wasn't shy about it either."

"So what happened?"

"Wilson was drunk by this point, otherwise he wouldn't have had the stones to go through with it. He argued with the guy for a few minutes, eventually threatening him with violence."

"Did he carry through with that threat?"

"Not exactly."

"Despite being twice Wilson's size, the other guy didn't actually want to fight. And he demonstrated that by saying so and walking away."

"The problem was, Wilson d_id _want to fight. So when he realized that he wasn't getting anywhere by just talking, his solution was to chuck a half empty bottle of Heineken across the room."

"That couldn't have ended well."

"It didn't. The guy saw it coming. He ducked, and the bottle smashed this huge, antique mirror. I mean, it shattered completely. There was glass everywhere."

"I'm having trouble picturing that."

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I probably wouldn't have believed it either."

"I believe you. I'm just having trouble picturing it."

"Anyway…it was a Friday night. So most of the patrons were more than just buzzed. Throwing the bottle set off a massive chain reaction. Others began following suit. Bottles and glasses were flying and it eventually turned into an all out brawl."

"..."

"The whole thing lasted about ten minutes, at which point the cops showed up."

"Was anyone arrested?"

"Just Wilson."

"For what?"

"Destroying public property and inciting a riot."

"Wow."

"Since it was clear that he'd come to the conference alone, and taking into consideration the divorce papers that he had in his possession, I figured that he was probably miles away from anyone who might be willing to bail him out. "

"..."

"So I did the honors."

"Wait...you bailed him out of jail?"

"Yeah."

"How much did it cost?"

"Three hundred and fifty dollars, if memory serves."

"Did he ever pay you back?"

"I actually don't remember. He might have. But I don't remember making any attempt to collect."

"And you'd never met him, prior to that day?"

"I'd never seen him before in my life."

"So why did you do it?"

"I was bored."

"I'm sure there were cheaper ways you could have rectified that."

"Cheaper maybe, but much less interesting."

"How did he react to your gesture?"

"He seemed grateful...perhaps slightly suspicious."

"He was probably wondering why a total stranger would drop three hundred and fifty dollars to bail him out of jail."

"A reasonable concern."

"Did you offer him an explanation for your generosity?"

"Nope."

"He didn't demand one?"

"I think he was just happy to be out of jail."

"So what happened after you bailed him out?"

"We stopped at a liquor store, bought a case of beer and a bunch of snack food. Then we ditched the remainder of the conference and spent the entire next day in my hotel room, getting drunk, stuffing our faces and playing Mortal Kombat."

"Interesting way to pass the time."

"..."

"You still haven't told me exactly what it was that pushed you over the edge. "

"..."

"Based on what you've disclosed so far, I'm assuming it had something to do with James."

"..."

"You have something else that you'd like to tell me, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"…"

"I didn't say _no_."

"What do you mean?"

"I _wish_ I'd said no. I wish…I didn't have the balls, I guess. Maybe if I had…I don't know. Maybe...I should have."

"Said _no_ to what, Greg?"

"I told you that Wilson called me last night, in my office."

"And asked you to be his best man."

"And I told you that I said _no_, that I wasn't interested."

"That was a lie?"

"..."

"What did you _actually_ say to him?"

"I just...told him what he wanted to hear."

"Or what you _thought_ he wanted to hear."

"I told him that I'd be honored, that I'd be happy to, that it would be my pleasure...and another half dozen or so idioms that people tend to employ, when they're trying desperately to sound sincere."

"But you _weren't_ sincere?"

"Not really, no."

"Then why would you tell him that?"

"..."

"You had to have a reason, Greg."

"I guess...I just couldn't bring myself to burst his bubble."

"That was kind of you."

"..."

"Something's puzzling me though."

"..."

"When I pointed out that James had yet to come check on you, since you'd regained consciousness, you said it was because he was angry. You said he was probably angry with you for turning down the invitation to be his best man. But now that I know that's not what _really_ what happened, I can't help wondering...whether or not there might be another reason that he isn't here."

"Yeah."

"So there_ is _another reason?"

"He's not here because...he probably thinks that's what I would want."

"_Is_ that what you want?"

"..."

"Then why would he think that?"

"It was just…it was something I said."

"What did you say?"

"He seemed relieved. When he called me...he seemed genuinely relieved that I'd said _yes_. I could tell that he'd been expecting me to say _no_. He was just so…happy, excited. He was like a little kid with a new toy. He started prattling on about Sam, about how great she was, about how wonderful his life had become, since they'd gotten back together. I never heard him so...animated."

"..."

"And then all of a sudden, I had this…epiphany. And that's when I realized."

"Realized what?"

"That they were actually good together, that maybe they even belonged together."

"..."

"I thought...maybe she could make him happy after all."

"..."

"And I was an idiot to think I had any chance of standing in the way of that. I was an idiot to think I could even _compete_ with that."

"I honestly don't think there's any way that I could examine this, that would result in you looking like an idiot...at least not to me."

"..."

"So did you share this epiphany with James?"

"Nope."

"But you must have said something."

"I said..._congratulations_."

"Was that all you said?"

"No."

"So what else did you say?"

"It was cruel."

"What was?"

"I figured it wouldn't matter. I figured...whatever damage that might be done, I wouldn't be around to see it anyway."

"What damage?"

"I tossed him a few more empty sentiments. I told him I was glad for him, that he was happy, that things were working out between he and Sam."

"Were you being sincere?"

"For the most part."

"So you_ do _care that he's happy."

"..."

"It's okay to care, Greg. It's okay to care about someone. It's not something you should be ashamed of, or that you should feel the need to hide."

"He seemed skeptical."

"You mean that you actually cared?"

"Yeah."

"..."

"He didn't actually ask. But it was like he wanted some sort of proof."

"Did you offer him proof?"

"I told him that I was going to give him a gift."

"You mean for his wedding, or in honor of his engagement to Sam?"

"..."

"How did James react, when you told him about the gift?"

"First off, he said it wasn't necessary for me to buy him anything. But I didn't want him to obsess over it, and I already knew that he would. So I insisted that it was fine. The cost didn't matter, because the gift had already been paid for."

"So you already had the gift in your possession?"

"In a sense."

"Either you did or you didn't."

"..."

"Do you mind me asking how much you paid for it, whatever it was?"

"I think that with tax, it was about...seven dollars and fifty-eight cents."

"Did you tell him how much you'd paid for it?"

"Yep."

"Can I ask why you felt the need to volunteer that information?"

"Because he asked."

"And how did he react to that?"

"I assured him that it was worth a lot more."

"And he believed you?"

"He seemed to."

"So how much more was it worth?"

"Oh...I'm not even sure how one would go about calculating such a thing."

"..."

"Naturally he wanted to know when he was going to get the gift. I told him...he'd get it the next day."

"You mean today."

"Yes."

"..."

"But it was funny, you know?"

"What was?"

"Wilson...When I first told him about the gift, he was almost excited about it."

"Excited how?"

"He kept trying to guess what it could be."

"Was he able to guess?"

"Nope...and I knew there was no way in hell that he would figure it out either. So I decided to give him a few hints."

"What kind of hints?"

"I told him it was something that he could share with Sam."

"..."

"I told him that it was something he'd been wanting for a long time. "

"..."

"I told him that it was something I should have given him when he was dating Amber."

"How did he react to that statement?"

"He asked what stopped me from giving it to him sooner. I said...I didn't realize how much he needed it."

"..."

"Lastly I made him promise that no matter how he felt about the gift, he wouldn't try to return it."

"Okay...I think I can see where this is going."

"..."

"But I'd rather not assume."

"I don't care."

"About what?"

"If you assume."

"Okay...I'm pretty sure that I know the answer to this question already. But just for my own edification, I don't suppose you spent that seven dollars and fifty-eight cents on a bottle of generic acetaminophen."

"..."

"That's what I thought."

"I just...I've never really done anything for him, not really."

"So?"

"So I wanted to give him that."

"Give him what?"

"I thought maybe the best gift I could give him would be the guarantee that he would no longer be obligated to tolerate my presence."

"Bearing in mind that this is the man you refer to as your best friend, you're under the impression that his ideal life would be one without you in it?"

"..."

"That doesn't seem at all backwards to you?"

"…"

"Assuming that you're not projecting, that this isn't just a result of your existing neuroses, if James is genuinely and willfully contributing to the impression that your life has no value and you exist just to be tolerated, then you need to get the hell out of that relationship."

"It's not his fault...not completely."

"I'm actually starting to wonder if maybe it is."

"..."

"I mean, surely he's not directly to blame. There are obviously a lot of factors at work here. But it sounds like he's contributed quite a bit. I'm not disregarding the fact that -at one time- his presence had a positive effect on your life. I'm saying that time appears to have passed."

"Yeah well...I don't exactly have any other friends."

"Meaning what...beggars can't be choosers? You don't deserve any better, so you might as well settle for what's easy or convenient?"

"..."

"Greg, you can make other friends. I know that you're capable of forming connections with other people, because I've seen you do it."

"There's more to it than just forming a connection."

"So you feel that your weakness lies in maintaining that connection?"

"..."

"But you've maintained your connection to James."

"So?"

"So the notion of you making and keeping new friends, isn't all that far-fetched."

"..."

"You've mentioned socializing with Dr. Chase, outside of work."

"Yeah."

"Tell me about that."

"About two months ago, he asked me to go bowling. A few months prior to that, we met at a pizza parlour and watched a soccer game on a big screen television. Once he came with me to the OTB parlour...maybe two years ago."

"OTB?"

"Off track betting."

"And those things were all his idea?"

"The first two were. The third one, he actually kind of invited himself."

"But you could have said _no_."

"..."

"So how did all of that go? Do you think he had fun?"

"It seemed like he was enjoying himself. But he hasn't expressed any interest in doing it again. So who knows? Maybe he wasn't."

"Would you get together with him again, if he asked?"

"I guess it would depend on exactly what it was that he wanted to do."

"Why would you have to wait for him to come to you? Couldn't you just as easily extend an invitation?"

"..."

"You're afraid he'll say no. You think it makes you pathetic, that you have to ask people to spend time with you, because they'd never offer otherwise."

"..."

"I have to be honest. It doesn't sound to me like you've tried that hard to interact with other people."

"..."

"Which is not entirely your fault. Like everything else, it's a product of your life experiences. But I think that at this point, you're so crippled by your fear of rejection, that you can't bring yourself to try any harder."

"..."

"You know...I realize that James hasn't come to see you, at least not since you regained consciousness. But I don't think it's because he doesn't care. I think...he has absolutely no idea what he should be doing or saying right now."

"..."

"So that's why he hasn't come to see you. Because he thinks that if he does, it would be like he's returning your gift."

"…"

"You've got him between a rock and a hard place, Greg. There's no right answer here and every option has the potential to hurt someone."

"..."

"Watching James struggle with that sort of dilemma is painful. It's like watching a dog try to lick itself, while wearing a Victorian collar."

"What a disturbingly accurate visual."

"He wants you to give him some kind of indication of what it is that you're feeling, without him having to actually come right out and ask you."

"..."

"You've got to move past this, Greg."

"Don't tell me what I've _got_ to do."

"He's waiting for you to make the first move."

"That's nice. I'm all out of moves."

"..."

"And if that's true, he's going to have an awfully long wait."

"And how long are you planning on making him wait?"

"I was thinking...for eternity."


	47. It Feels Like Home to Me: Part VI

_Okay. This is the last part. No really. Will post House Wilson conversation next._

* * *

**It Feels Like Home to Me: Part VI**

"So you're just...never going to speak to him again?"

"That's the plan I'm favoring, at the moment."

"Alright."

"I have the right to walk away from him."

"I never said you didn't."

"And yet your tone implies disapproval."

"Well then I apologize for that. Because it was meant to imply concern."

"And what exactly is your _concern_?"

"If you do choose to end this relationship, I will support that decision in whatever way I can."

"I hear a _but_ coming."

"But first, I would like you to take a step back and consider what that actually means."

"..."

"This is not going to be a quick and painless escape. If you're looking for the easy way out, you might as well stop. Because there isn't one. Whatever choice you make will inevitably have consequences. One way or another, you will be affected."

"..."

"I also feel compelled to point out...that regardless of how undeniably toxic your relationship with James has become, discontinuing it is still going to be traumatic, probably for you both."

"I suppose you think that I should be trying to salvage what's left of it instead. How does that phrase go..._winners never quit, quitters never win?"_

"To be perfectly honest...I don't feel qualified to say how salvageable your relationship really is. Only the two of you know that for sure."

"..."

"And _winners_ are not just the people who refuse to quit. They're _also_ the people who are capable of knowing when it's time to walk away."

"I...can't figure out what side of the argument you're on."

"Technically neither."

"..."

"I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with you wanting to end this relationship. What I'm saying is, it's not necessary to burn every bridge you cross, even if you never intend to set foot on it again. If you sever yourself from James, and I mean in such a manner that would leave absolutely no room for reconciliation, I think that you will ultimately regret it."

"Why?"

"People heal, Greg. People change and grow. People forgive and forget. You've been connected to him, in one capacity or another, for the past seventeen years. That's a substantial chunk of your life. Someday things could be very different for you both, and you may discover that you desire to reconnect. I think the goal should be to establish and maintain boundaries, without completely alienating him in the process."

"..."

"Because you have no idea what's going to happen. You don't know who you'll be six months from now...a year from now, two years from now. All the ways in which you're currently broken, could be mended by then. All of the issues that you're struggling with right now may very well be resolved."

"I'm sure I'll acquire some new ones to take their place."

"But you'll be more equipped to handle them."

"Assuming there aren't any pills laying around, that is."

"You don't think you've made any progress?"

"..."

"Greg...I don't think there's any scientifically accurate way to even _measure_ just how much better off you are right now, than you were the day we met."

"..."

"I really wish you could see how far you've come."

"Yeah? Me too."

"You're feeling sorry for yourself."

"Duh."

"Why?"

"I know that this may come as a tremendous shock to you. But I wasn't actually _trying_ to be cruel."

"And why do you think that would come as a shock?"

"..."

"Just like every other human being on the planet, you have some undeniable character flaws. But I would not list _cruelty_ among them."

"..."

"You did what you did in order to protect yourself, because you were in pain. You were under the impression that it wouldn't matter, because you were sure that you'd never have to face him again."

"..."

"Which reminds me, I'm a little curious about the janitor."

"What about him?"

"You must have been aware that he might show up in your office at some point during the night."

"Yeah."

"You weren't concerned that he might notice you laying there?"

"Well...I wasn't exactly planning on ending up on the floor."

"Where were you planning on ending up?"

"I was going to lay on the couch."

"Why?"

"Because that's where I've been spending most nights...and I figured it was highly unlikely that a guy with a ninth grade education would be able to tell the difference between someone who was sleeping and someone who was unconscious...especially in the dark."

"So you're saying that you knew exactly what you were doing?"

"..."

"When you swallowed those pills, you were genuinely hoping that doing so would result in your death."

"Haven't we covered this?"

"I'm just trying to be thorough."

"..."

"I take it things obviously didn't go as you planned."

"Do they ever?"

"So how _did _you end up on the floor?"

"It had been twenty...maybe twenty-five minutes since I'd ingested the pills. But I hadn't eaten since that morning, and I'd barely had anything to drink. So they kicked in a whole lot harder and faster than I was expecting. I'd been sitting at my desk, playing solitaire on my computer, when the screen started to get blurry. I thought that might be a good time to grab a blanket and head for the couch. But when I stood up, I took a few steps and...everything just went black. I don't even remember hitting the ground."

"That must have been very frightening."

"..."

"How long did you lay there, before you were discovered?"

"What time did the janitor find me?"

"About four-thirty."

"I took the pills just before midnight."

"So you were down for about four and a half hours?"

"Give or take a few minutes."

"I'm amazed."

"By what?"

"You're not only _alive_, but you were oxygen deprived for almost ten minutes and yet you somehow managed not to suffer any long term side effects."

"That we know of."

"So why _did _you do it?"

"I already told you."

"Did you?"

"..."

"I don't mean generally, Greg. You've been teetering on the cusp of self destruction for the majority of your life. What I want to know is, what exactly was it that pushed you over the edge?"

"I just...wasn't ready."

"For what?"

"To be alone again."

"Do you think you'll ever be?"

"I don't know."

"..."

"But I guess I might as well get used to it...right? I mean, it's not like I have anywhere else to go or anyone else to go there with."

"Do you wish you did?"

"I don't waste a lot of time wishing for things. I learned that lesson early on in life."

"Okay."

"..."

"So...getting back to my initial question...how are you planning to handle this?"

"..."

"Are you prepared to walk away from him, to cut him out of your life completely and indefinitely?"

"..."

"Or are you no longer favoring that option?"

"I need some time to think about this."

"How much time?"

"I don't know. I just...I don't feel like I can make any decisions right now."

"But you're going to have to eventually."

"There's a part of me that feels like maybe I should leave, like maybe that would be best for everyone."

"Saying there's a part of that thinks you should leave implies that there is also a part of you that thinks you should stay."

"..."

"I'm curious what it is exactly that you'd be staying for...your personal relationships, your professional relationships, your job itself? You may have noticed that none of those things are fulfilling you, at the moment."

"..."

"Why would you cling so tightly to something that's only causing you pain?"

"..."

"Or maybe that's _why_ you're clinging to it. Maybe you don't think you deserve to be happy. Maybe you think you deserve to suffer."

"..."

"I know that the concept of putting yourself first is foreign to you. But this is _your_ life. So it isn't really about what's best for _everyone_. It's about what's best for you."

"..."

"You have to reach a point where you're willing to assert your own needs, even if it's at the expense of others. Because you may have noticed that no one else has ever had any qualms about asserting _their_ needs at _your_ expense."

"I thought you said two wrongs didn't make a right."

"They don't. But this isn't a matter of right or wrong. It's about self preservation. It's about keeping your head above water, when the tide is doing everything in its power to suck you down."

"..."

"Outside of our parental instincts, were physiologically designed to put our own safety first. Our survival depends on it."

"..."

"Life is mostly a zero sum game. Whether we like it or not, winning often means that someone else has to lose. The problem is, you've grown _far_ to accustomed to being that someone. And frankly, I think it's time to take a stand."

"..."

"And now you look utterly confused."

"..."

"What is it that's confusing you?"

"I get that you're trying to be supportive. But you mean to tell me that you honestly don't see _anything_ wrong with what I did?"

"You do realize that I can care about you, _without_ feeling the need to chastise you for your every mistake."

"It was a pretty big mistake."

"And you're well aware of that already. So we have nothing to gain by dwelling on it."

"..."

"It was a shitty thing to do, Greg. But I honestly think that it needed to be done."

"Why?"

"I'm sharing this with you only because it's largely speculative and because I'm assuming that you're already aware of these things."

"Okay."

"James is the kind of person who willfully ignores warning signs and red flags, in pretty much all of his relationships, even those with his patients and immediate family. He will suffer in silence, based on the assumption that, if he just acts like everything is fine, it will be."

"..."

"He avoids addressing his concerns until they are so big that they are unmanageable. Then he backpedals frantically, all the while blaming everyone else, because he didn't feel comfortable enough to mention them sooner."

"..."

"And I don't think it's malicious, or even intentional. I doubt that he's even aware that he's doing it. But it seems like he's been telling himself for a long time...that you're fine, that you don't need anything, that the things he says and does have no lasting effect on you. After years of denial, he has successfully convinced himself that you are invulnerable."

"Why would he even want to do that?"

"Because if you don't have any feelings, that means he can't hurt you. Therefore he can treat you however he wants, guilt free."

"..."

"James has grown accustomed to dismissing your humanity, to the point that's it's practically become a reflex. Regardless of how it might seem, he has no desire to hurt you. The reason he's choosing to be angry with you right now, is because the alternative is confronting the fact that he may have caused you pain...and not just ordinary pain, but pain severe enough that you'd be willing to attempt suicide in order to get some relief."

"..."

"I know that before I said this wasn't up to you, that I was declaring you mentally incapacitated. I know I said that you weren't going to have a choice in the matter. But I've changed my mind."

"Changed it to what?"

"I think that forcing you to do anything would be a mistake."

"Couldn't agree more."

"You can take my advice, or you can leave it. But whatever it is you end up doing, I want it to be on your own accord."

"So...what's your advice?"

"First and foremost, I think you would benefit from a drastic change in scenery."

"Your advice is that I rearrange my furniture? Is this like a feng shui type thing?"

"I'm not talking about interior design. I'm talking about relocating."

"Relocating to where?"

"Anywhere that isn't here."

"Do you have any suggestions, or should I just put on a blindfold and start throwing darts at a map?"

"Well...I'm sure it will come as no surprise to you. But I'd really like you to consider Philadelphia."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"You and I both know that if you went anywhere else, you'd use that as an excuse to discontinue your therapy. You'd have no one there to support you. You'd eventually fall back into old habits and bad things would inevitably follow."

"..."

"You lived in the same apartment for seventeen years, until just recently. Isn't that right?"

"Yeah."

"Despite the fact that relocating is generally a positive change, it's still a very _big_ change. And all change is stressful, to some extent. Wherever you decide to go, you're going to need someone to support you while you adjust. I would feel better, knowing that you were close enough to reach out for my help, should you be willing to admit that you need it."

"..."

"It's been my observation that...every time you attempt to make some kind of personal growth, someone says or does something that causes you to doubt yourself. You start questioning your own motives and then wondering why you even bothered, and before you know it, you're back at square one again."

"..."

"I doubt that it's intentional, in fact I'm pretty sure it's not. But for whatever reason, the people who are currently in your life don't seem to be contributing anything positive to it."

"..."

"So what you need is a fresh start."

"Don't you think it's a bit late for that?"

"I wouldn't be recommending it, if I did."

"..."

"You need to meet new people, have a chance to begin your life over again. You need to go someplace where no one knows you. Stop hiding behind that protective facade of yours. Let people get to know the _real_ you. Develop some healthy relationships."

"..."

"I know that it's scary, the concept of starting over from scratch. But I wouldn't be suggesting it if I didn't sincerely believe that the ends would justify the means."

"..."

"Which brings me to this."

"To what?"

"I have something that I need to ask you."

"Okay."

"And I guess I'm a little bit nervous."

"Why the hell would _you_ be nervous?"

"Because it's very important, and I don't want to do or say anything that might compromise your response."

"..."

"So I want you to listen carefully, take what I'm saying as seriously as possible, and wait a few seconds before you react."

"Okay."

"When I first learned of your suicide attempt, my initial instinct was that it was my fault. I realize how narcissistic that probably sounds. But I was convinced that I'd missed something, that I must have discharged you prematurely. Sending you right back to Mayfield seemed like the best, most appropriate course of action. And if you were any other patient, that's exactly what I would do. But now…after all the talking we've done tonight, I'm not so sure if being institutionalized is going to do you any good."

"You think I'm beyond help?"

"Not at all. But I do think that the majority of your issues actually stem from the environment that you spend the majority of your time in, and the people who you spend the majority of that time with."

"..."

"The logical solution would be to alter your environment, or just leave it behind altogether. Since you're not really in a position to alter your environment much, the second of those options makes a lot more sense."

"..."

"I'm pretty sure you'd rather not go back to Mayfield if you can help it, or at least not on an inpatient basis. Which is why I need to know whether or not you'd be willing to consider an..._alternative_ plan."

"You mean like an outpatient program?"

"Well...yes and no."

"It's either one or the other."

"I just mean, that it would _include_ an outpatient program. But that would only be part of the arrangement."

"And what would be the _other_ part?"

"..."

"Can I assume that_ this _is related to the question that you're nervous about?"

"Yes."

"Well I suppose we could play charades. But I have to warn you, I'm not really..."

"How would you feel about coming to stay with me?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"I'm sorry..._what_?"

"Do you need me to repeat the question?"

"No."

"..."

"When you say _stay_, you mean like at the hospital where you work?"

"No...I mean at the home in which I live."

"..."

"I'm afraid I'm a little off my game at the moment. So you're going to have to tell me how I should be interpreting your lack of a response. Because I honestly don't know."

"..."

"Or maybe you could you just give me a general idea of what you're thinking right now."

"..."

"Greg?"

"What?"

"How do you feel about what I just asked?"

"Is this some kind of joke?"

"It is most definitely _not_ a joke."

"Are you mocking me? Why would you do that?"

"Absolutely not. I would never mock you, Greg. I promise."

"But you do realize that this is never going to happen, right?"

"Why not?"

"Because...it's just _not_."

"That's a rather flimsy argument. And considering the fact that you have no way of knowing that for sure, it's unfair of you to make such a declaration."

"I'm just trying to spare you the headache."

"What headache?"

"I'm sure that this probably seems great in theory. But trust me, it won't take long for you to realize that it's a colossal mistake. Your thirst for helping others would be adequately quenched by something more short term, like adopting a stray cat or writing a check to _Amnesty International_."

"So you think that helping you would be a mistake?"

"That tends to be the trend, yeah."

"This is not a joke, Greg. I'm not mocking you. I'm not just messing with your head. I'm not trying to be funny. It's not a trick or a game. I'm fully aware of what an immense commitment this is going to be."

"..."

"I can see that this might take some convincing. What you should know is...my wife and I have a two story, three thousand square foot home. We have a huge backyard with a pool and a jacuzzi. In the back we have a decently sized guesthouse, which is conveniently vacant. There's plenty of space that's going to waste, now that my children have all moved out. Dina is a social butterfly, spends a lot of time at church and doing community service. It seems like she's rarely home anymore."

"And you really think she's going to approve of you, opening your house up to some unhinged psychiatric patient, with a history of psychosis and drug and alcohol abuse?"

"It was her idea."

"Why the hell would she suggest such a thing? She doesn't even know me."

"She knows enough."

"..."

"You were right."

"About what?"

"About me. When we first met, you made the observation that I didn't have very many friends, that I'd sabotaged a lot of relationships, that I was lonely and didn't have much of a personal life."

"I believe I said that you had_ no _personal life."

"Either way...it's a little more complicated than that, of course. But still...you were right. I'm not the most social person on the planet. And there are times I'd prefer an evening alone to attending a large gathering, or any size gathering for that matter. And I'm self aware enough to realize...that isn't healthy."

"..."

"I think it's possible that I've expected Dina to compensate for my lack of meaningful relationships. And that has affected our marriage negatively, in the long run. We get along as well as we always have. And we've never really fought. But peace is more than just the absence of conflict. At this point, we're just very good friends who happen to sleep in the same bed. We love each other. But the only reason that we're still together is because it's convenient."

"I think every marriage is like that, to some extent. Not that I have any experience from which to draw."

"She seemed to think that if you came to stay with us for a while, it would be a benefit to us both.

"..."

"Now I rejected this idea initially, but only because I was under the impression that you'd be staying with James. I was sure that living arrangement would last at least as long as it would take you to get back on your feet again...figuratively speaking."

"..."

"Now I know that isn't the case, in light of recent events, I really feel like _this _is the way to go."

"..."

"But I want you to know that it's okay if your answer is _no_. I don't want you to feel pressured. Just because I'm offering, doesn't mean you have to accept."

"What happens if I don't accept?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing as in..."

"Nothing as in _nothing_. You'll be discharged, at which point you'd be free to go, and nothing will change. Things will go on just as they always have, and you will still be miserable."

"..."

"I recognize that this is a lot for you to digest, and I know you mentioned that you didn't think you could make any decisions right now. I would like you to take as much time as you need to make this decision. But keep in mind that the sooner you can give me an answer, the better."

"How long is _a while_?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how long is _a while_."

"However long you want it to be...two weeks, five months, three years..."

"Right."

"You don't believe me."

"Can I get that in writing?"

"If that's what you need, yes."

"_Seriously?"_

"That's what it would take for you to trust this offer? You want to make this legal?"

"..."

"If it would help you to sleep better at night, I can easily type up some sort of contract and have it notarized."

"..."

"But we don't have to figure all that out right this very second."

"..."

"Or _do_ we?"

"I'm still kind of stuck on the phrase _a while."_

"Why?"

"Because it implies a finite period of time."

"Everything in life is finite."

"..."

"But...maybe that was a poor choice of words on my part. So allow me to restate. You can stay however long you need to, and you can leave whenever you want."

"..."

"Is that more along the lines of what you were looking for?"

"Let's assume for a moment that this conversation is actually taking place and I haven't just entered the Twilight Zone. If I were to move in with you, what exactly would I be doing all day?"

"Well...priority number one would be starting you back on your medication, and making sure that you _stay_ on it. The next thing I would do is enroll you in Mayfield's outpatient program, which is eight hours a day, Monday through Friday. It's pretty much the same hours that I work. So you'll basically be there whenever I'm there. During the day, you'd attend a series of groups and participate in some miscellaneous therapeutic activities. We could carpool, if you like. It's not mandatory. It just think it makes more sense for us to do so, when we're both coming from and heading to the exact same locations. You'd eat balanced and regular meals. You'd maintain some sort of exercise regimen. You'd take better care of your physical health. You'd establish a more conventional sleep schedule. You'd explore the possibility of new hobbies and interests, make an effort to interact with other people on a recreational basis. You'd also be expected to clean up after yourself, do some minimal chores...but nothing overly strenuous or that your physical handicap would disallow."

"..."

"I think that there are probably only a few stipulations that might deter you. But regardless of how you feel about them, they are non-negotiable."

"What are they?"

"First...no prostitutes or anyone who might qualify as a professional equivalent. That includes massage therapists who have no reservations about providing you with a happy ending."

"..."

"I want you to know that I didn't establish that rule because I don't want you to have a sex life. I just don't want you breaking the law in order to do it."

"..."

"Of course you'd be welcome to entertain overnight guests, just as long as you're discreet about it and just as long as doing so wouldn't constitute a misdemeanor."

"..."

"And the other stipulation...there will be no alcohol. There will be no abuse of drugs. And I'm not merely referring to illegal drugs. I'm also referring to over the counter and prescription medications...anything that has recreational potential."

"..."

"I've put a lot of thought into this."

"I guess you have."

"I want you to know that this is not a spur of the moment decision. I realize what I'm committing to. I'm making this offer, fully aware that it has the potential to become as permanent. I want you to trust me. I want you to trust that I'm not going to just kick you out, the moment that you become comfortable."

"And what about work?"

"Well you'd obviously have to find a new job. I know you like the one you have now, and I know you do it well. It's a big part of who you are. But the fact of the matter is, the environment you're working in and people in it, aren't healthy for you. They have in fact, become rather toxic."

"..."

"Whether you realize it or not, you have lots other options. You don't necessarily have to continue practicing diagnostic medicine. You could just as easily choose one of your specialties instead. You could write. You could teach. You could do research."

"And how do I overcome the hurdle of finding someone who would actually be willing to employ me?"

"We can figure that out, Greg. There's no rush."

"..."

"Just in case you've forgotten, you're a minor celebrity. You're well known in the medical community, for both positive and negative reasons. Even the doctors who don't like you as a person, still respect you as a physician, because they know how good you are at what you do. That being said, Philadelphia is an enormous city. I will be shocked if you can't find at least _one_ hospital there that would be thrilled to have you."

"..."

"And if by some chance you really can't find a job, then I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Like what?"

"Well...I'm not in a position to hire or fire. But I'm sure I could talk the board of directors into offering you employment."

"You mean at Mayfield."

"Yes."

"What the hell would I do in a psychiatric hospital?"

"The detox ward is in need of an attending physician for its first and second shifts."

"That would be great, except I've never completed a psych residency."

"Not a lot of psych involved. Just monitoring patients who are going through withdrawal. It's more about protocol than anything else. The nurses generally do most of the work. But the law requires us to have a medical doctor on the premises. It wouldn't be a very exciting job, I'm afraid. But if you were unable to find work elsewhere, I'd like you to consider it as an option."

"..."

"You don't have to rush into it either. Right now, I would like your treatment to be your main priority. When the time comes that you feel ready to go back to work, you can do that."

"..."

"And you'd be more than welcome to move out, at that point. But if you do choose to stay, once you've returned to work, you'll be expected to contribute financially."

"Contribute how?"

"Well I wouldn't charge you rent, per se. But you'd still need to pay a portion of the utilities, cover the cost of your own groceries and personal expenses, help out with general upkeep of your living space."

"..."

"I know it's hard for you to trust, especially considering all the ways you've been let down. But I promise you that this offer is one hundred percent legit."

"..."

"So like I said, the guesthouse is vacant. Dina was thinking that we could set you up in there. That way you technically wouldn't be living alone. But you could still have privacy and solitude whenever you needed it."

"..."

"I need to warn you though. If you do decide to accept this offer, I won't be allowing you isolate yourself for any extended periods of time. Your sequestering days are over. That's where depression breeds. You need to be around other people on a regular basis, and I'll be seeing to it that you are."

"..."

"Any other questions?"

"Why is the guesthouse vacant?"

"About ten years ago, my mother-in-law came to live with us. She had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. She was already a widow at that point. Her husband was a firefighter who'd died in his late thirties, when a building collapsed on him. But she had no living siblings and no other children besides my wife. She wanted to die surrounded by loved ones and not in some convalescent hospital. So she used the remainder of her husband's social security to hire a full time hospice nurse and have a detached, seven hundred square foot home built on our property. That's where she spent the last three years of her life."

"..."

"There should be enough room to accommodate the majority of your belongings. You may have to keep a few things in storage. But the bathroom is handicap accessible. There's definitely enough space for your piano, which I imagine is probably important to you. There's a kitchen, a full bath, a living room and a bedroom. And of course you'd have access to the jacuzzi, twenty-four hours a day, which could probably help take the edge off of your chronic leg pain.

"..."

"So what do you think?"

"..."

"You seem kind of stunned."

"I guess I am."

"..."

"I don't understand."

"What don't you understand?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"I already told you why."

"But you don't owe me anything. If anything, I owe you."

"Why does that even matter?"

"I just want to make sure that you realize, I have no way to compensate you."

"Well that's fine, because I'm not expecting any compensation."

"..."

"I'm sure the pleasure of your company will be compensation enough."

"..."

"I know you'd like to think that there's some kind of logic at work here. But I'm afraid there isn't. This was a completely emotional decision for me, just as I assume it will be for you."

"..."

"I can't explain why I want to do this. I only know that I do. It feels right. I want this more than I've wanted anything in a long time."

"And what happens when you get sick of this arrangement?"

"You're assuming that because other people have tired of you, that I will eventually do the same?"

"..."

"First of all, I pride myself on the fact that I'm a very patient and tolerant person. I have to be, in my field. I've also been married to the same woman for twenty-seven years. I've held my current position for almost ten years and owned my home for about twenty. I don't just abandon something, at the first sign of trouble. I am in fact rather stubborn in that regard."

"..."

"There's room for conflict, Greg, even in the healthiest relationships. I can pretty much guarantee you that we will argue. We'll get in each other's way and we'll probably hurt each other's feelings at some point. But I want you to have the security of knowing that I'm not going to kick you out, just because of some petty disagreement. Whatever happens, we will both do everything in our power to resolve it. And I honestly don't think that there's anything that could happen between us, that couldn't be repaired by simply communicating with one another."

"..."

"What's wrong?"

"..."

"Greg, you look incredibly upset."

"..."

"Whatever's bothering you...you can tell me."

"It's stupid."

"I'm sure it's not."

"I thought...it was going to be bad news."

"You thought_ what _going to be bad news?"

"When you said you had to ask me something, and that you were nervous about it...I thought you were going to tell me that I'd become more trouble than I was worth. I thought you were going to tell me that you didn't want to be my doctor anymore."

"Just because you tried to kill yourself?"

"..."

"You actually thought I would just abandon you for being so reckless?"

"I told you it was stupid."

"I don't think that's stupid at all. But I find your interpretation rather intriguing."

"Why?"

"Because psychologically speaking, reckless behavior implies that you need me more, not less."

"..."

"Do you need a tissue?"

"I'm fine."

"Alright."

"..."

"You know...it's okay _not_ to be fine. If I were in your situation right now, I would most definitely not be _fine_. I'd probably be a pretty angry guy."

"..."

"Why don't you take the tissue and hold onto it, just in case you change your mind."

"..."

"Lots of people cry, Greg, for all kinds of reasons."

"..."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"I'm not ashamed."

"It seems like maybe you are."

"..."

"It's okay to be upset about things."

"That's just it. I'm not."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not upset."

"Then what are you?"

"..."

"Greg?"

"..."

"It's okay."

"..."

"What's wrong?"

"..."

"I can't help you, unless you talk to me."

"I know."

"Are you saying you don't want my help?"

"..."

"You asked me earlier if I'd ever had a place...a place where I felt just right, like I belonged there, like all the people there _got _me, and understood me, and wanted me around no matter what."

"…"

"I _have_ had that Greg. I have been so blessed. I've had that for most of my life…and I realize now, that I haven't appreciated nearly enough. The truth is, I've completely taken it for granted."

"..."

"And I want to make amends for that, by sharing it with you."

"..."

"What are you feeling right now?"

"I don't know."

"But it's making you cry."

"..."

"Maybe it would help to compare it to something."

"There's nothing to compare it to."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't think I've ever felt like this before."

"Is that good or bad?"

"It's...amazing."

"What is?"

"That my life could turn around, just like that."

"..."

"I mean, just two minutes ago...everything sucked."

"And now it doesn't?"

"..."

"What is it that you're feeling, Greg?"

"I'm not sure."

"Then take a guess."

"I think...I think it might be _happiness."_


	48. Home Improvement

__

This is the conversation referenced in **It Feels Like Home To Me**. It is AU from the main verse.

This upset me greatly. I have no idea what compelled me to write it. There will be 2 parts.

* * *

**Home Improvement**

"House?"

"..."

"_House."_

"What?"

"What are you doing down there?"

"What does it_ look _like I'm doing?"

"I thought you said we were going to call a plumber."

"Yeah...about that. I went on one of those _do it yourself _websites and downloaded step by step instructions. There's no need to pay some fat, sweaty guy named Guido a thousand bucks for something I could do myself for eighteen dollars and thirty-seven cents."

"True."

"Of course it's probably taking me about ten times as long. But taking into consideration the satisfaction of a job well done, I think it's a fair exchange."

"Listen, House...we need to talk."

"Can you hand me the wrench?"

"Which one? There's three of them."

"The pipe wrench."

"Uh…which one's the pipe wrench?"

"Are you serious?"

"You know that I'm completely ignorant when it comes to matters of home improvement."

"My mistake. It's the big, heavy blue one."

"This one?"

"Yes."

"Okay, here."

"Thanks."

"House, we need to talk."

"Can it wait until I'm done with this?"

"I'm not sure. How much longer do you think you'll be?"

"I have no idea."

"Then, no. It can't."

"So what happened? You find out that Sam is really a hermaphrodite? Because I've heard that could actually be kind of hot."

"No…"

"Do me a favor, run the water on the left side for a minute…_just_ the hot water."

"Uh…okay…"

"That's good. Now shut it off."

"House…"

"Did you shut it off all the way?"

"Yes."

"Tighten it a little more, if you can."

"House…"

"It's still leaking for some reason."

"Oh...really?"

"Not a lot…but enough that it could eventually pose a problem. I'm guessing it's been like this for a while, since the wood under here is already warped. I think I'm going to have to shut the water off from outside, so this pipe can dry out and I can fix it properly."

"Yeah…it's actually pretty late."

"I didn't mean _right this second_."

"Oh."

"There's no rush, right?"

"Well..."

"I can do it tomorrow, assuming my team doesn't acquire a case between now and then. And if they do, I can always finish it on the weekend."

"House…we seriously need to talk."

"So you keep saying."

"There's something I have to tell you."

"So dispense with the hype and just say it already."

"First I want to say how much I appreciate that you discontinued your attempts to interfere in my relationship with Sam. You've actually been…very mature about it. You said that you were going to take the high road, and you made good on that promise and I know that couldn't have been easy."

"Yes...so glad I could be there for you by _not_ being there."

"The thing is, it's been four weeks since Sam and I have officially been back together."

"Golly, has it been that long? Like sands through the hourglass..._these are the days of our lives_."

"I'm not really sure how to say this."

"English is preferred."

"Sam and I…well, I think it's safe to say that we're fairly serious about each other. So we're talking about the possibility of maybe getting...remarried."

"Uh huh. Mazel tov. Best of luck to you both."

"That's...seriously all you've got to say?"

"Were you expecting a different response?"

"Yes, actually."

"Sorry to disappoint you. If you want, you can leave the room and we can do it again."

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"Suit yourself."

"The thing is…we were thinking that maybe when we _did_ get married, we could live…here."

"Here in Plainsboro?"

"No…I mean here in this loft."

"And you're telling me this because?"

"Because…when that happens, you're going to need to find somewhere else to stay."

"Well...from what I've gathered Sam's an old fashioned gal. So chances are that she won't want to officially move in with you until you've tied the knot...you know, for sake of appearances and all that. And she's fairly shallow. So she'll probably want to have a big, traditional Jewish wedding, something that would leave your first wedding in the dust. And that's going to require a lot of planning on her part. So that gives me at least a few months to get my affairs in order."

"Actually..."

"And that's only if you two manage not to drive one another nuts between now and then. Because it's fairly likely that whatever it was you guys did to screw up your relationship the first time, will eventually rear its ugly head. I give you guys four months, six tops."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence, House."

"I call 'em like I see 'em."

"Well you may call them like you see them. But you're wrong. She's not Jewish, for one thing. She doesn't want to wait to move in together, and she doesn't want a wedding."

"Oh?"

"We decided....we were just going to have a private ceremony, down at the courthouse."

"The courthouse, huh? Well that's romantic. I've heard that if you get married there, they'll validate your parking for free."

"Yes, that's exactly why we're doing it."

"So when is this unholy, little charade going to take place?"

"Soon, House."

"_How_ soon?"

"Maybe…Saturday morning."

"You said you were going to help me make tamales on Saturday morning."

"Did I?"

"You forgot?"

"I've...kind of had a lot on my mind."

"I asked you over a week ago, you know...when you blew off yet another invitation to go bowling?"

"That's..."

"My memory's not what it used to be. But if I recall correctly, you said _yes_."

"Well...there's obviously been a change in plans."

"It seems so."

"And we can always do that on another day."

"Really? What_ other day _would that be exactly?"

"_Any _day. House, I don't know. Is it _that_ important that you make the damn tamales?"

"Apparently not."

"Is it more important than me getting married?"

"First of all, when someone's been married as many times as you have, it's about as special as a sale at Nordstrom's. Second of all, I haven't done anything remotely recreational with you in over a month. And I think I've been pretty nice about it. Aside from that little fiasco with the drag queen when you two first hooked up, I haven't complained at all. But I'm supposed to just hold my breath until you're available again? Because chances are, I'm going to asphyxiate long before that time comes."

"Do you really _need_ my help to make tamales, House? I mean, you made it clear that you know your way around a kitchen."

"You think that's why I asked you, because I _need help_? Yeah that totally sounds like me."

"Okay look...I get that you want to spend time with me. I realize that I've recently been...unavailable. And I apologize for that. But things aren't always going to be as intense as they are right now. I'm sure that when the honeymoon phase of our relationship begins to wane, things will return to normal."

"Any idea when that might be?"

"I don't know."

"Are we talking months or years here, Wilson?"

"I just told you, _I don't know."_

"But I'm suppose to just make myself conveniently scarce until then?"

"That's not what I said."

"I think it is."

"You know...you _could_ actually attempt to make some other friends."

"Yeah...the key word there being _attempt_."

"You don't think you can make new friends?"

"_Making_ friends and _keeping_ them are two different things."

"Didn't you recently go bar hopping with Chase and Foreman?"

"For lack of a better term. I was actually planning on pretending that never happened."

"Like you didn't have a good time."

"Watching Chase and Foreman get completely loaded on Bailey's and Mudslides and systematically butcher _The Best of ABBA_, while I'm forced to drink soda and act as their designated driver, isn't really my idea of a _good time_."

"So why don't _you_ come up with something else for the three of you to do?"

"I tried."

"Seriously?"

"They both said _no_ to the cow tipping, to toilet papering Cuddy's house, and to transgender night at the x-rated movie theater. Face it, that doesn't really leave us with much."

"What about that kid you met at the mental hospital?"

"..."

"Come on, House. You couldn't have thought it was a secret."

"..."

"He only came to your office four times in the past week. Cuddy said you were eating lunch together in the cafeteria. And Taub said that last Friday, you gave him a ride home on your bike."

"I never thought it was a _secret_."

"Then why are you acting so surprised that I know about him?"

"I just didn't realize you were even paying that much attention to my life."

"My point is, you met him what...six months ago? You've spend a significant amount of time together and you've managed to not alienate him."

"Hmm...allow me to translate your Wilsonian subtext. What you mean is _hey you found someone on the planet besides me, who's actually willing to tolerate you for more than a few minutes at a time. You should milk it for all it's worth_."

"That is _not_ what I said."

"But that's what you meant."

"You can't deny that you are not one of the easiest people to get along with. I think...taking that into consideration, you should nurture any relationships that appear to have long term potential."

"Thanks for the cost benefit analysis. Have you considered a career in the stock market exchange?"

"Look...I know you're pissed. What should you know is, even if it doesn't seem like it, this is every bit as difficult for me as it is for you."

"I seriously doubt it."

"Why?"

"Well for one thing, you're gaining something and I'm losing something. So I have no idea what the hell _you're_ complaining about."

"That doesn't mean that I don't find this difficult. You know how hard it is for me to give people bad news."

"That's what you do for a _living_, Wilson."

"It's not the same thing."

"How so?"

"You're not my patient, House. You're...you're my friend."

"I'm starting to think that your definition of the word _friend_, differs greatly from my own."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Is she pregnant?"

"_What_? No."

"Is she an American citizen?"

"As far as I know."

"Is she in the federal witness protection program?"

"No."

"Then the only remaining possibility is that she's an heiress to some huge fortune."

"Between her research and her work on the lecture circuit, she makes a decent salary. But I'd hardly categorize her as _rich_."

"Then what's the big rush?"

"I don't know."

"Well you might want to figure that out _before_ you sign any binding documents."

"I guess we just…we have a lot of regrets and...we want to make up for lost time."

"No kidding."

"So that's why I'm officially letting you know that...that I asked her to move in here."

"Well thanks for running that by me first."

"I don't need your permission, House. It's _my_ apartment."

"That doesn't mean you couldn't have given me a heads up."

"..."

"At the very least, you could have told me not to get too comfortable, because you might be booting me out at any given moment."

"I wasn't...I didn't _plan_ this, House. It just happened."

"Oh...well that makes it okay."

"I kind of assumed that you went into this, _knowing_ it was temporary."

"Really? What exactly were you basing that on?"

"..."

"Was it when I cancelled the lease on the apartment I'd been living in for the past seventeen years, and forfeited the one thousand dollar security deposit?"

"..."

"Was it when I spent an entire Saturday installing grab bars and safety rails, to accommodate my physical handicap?"

"..."

"Was it when I went to the trouble to update my mailing address with my bank, my employer _and_ all my creditors?"

"..."

"Was it when I discontinued the use of my post office box, which I've been using for over a decade?"

"..."

"Or was it when I had the phone company establish a second land line in my name?"

"..."

"Seriously...which of those things indicated that I should have been aware that the arrangement was temporary? Because I'd really like to know."

"..."

"Oh...you've gone this far, Wilson. Don't pussy out on me now."

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"I'm pretty sure you do."

"..."

"I just want to hear you say it."

"Say _what?"_

"The_ real _reason you think that I should have known that this was temporary."

"This wasn't meant to be long term, House. I thought you understood that."

"And yet you don't seem to have the balls to tell me why."

"It's not...I don't know what you want to hear."

"Then you're an even bigger idiot than I thought."

"..."

"Just_ say _it. Go ahead. You know you want to."

"Are you familiar with the phrase _familiarity breeds contempt_?"

"Yes. It's a politically correct way of saying that if you hang around someone long enough, you'll eventually find yourself wanting to murder them in their sleep."

"I thought that if we lived together long enough, I would end up losing you as a friend."

"Hmm...so in your attempt to preserve our relationship, you did the one thing that would pretty much guarantee its demise. Yeah that makes a lot of sense."

"What are you saying?"

"..."

"You're saying you're just going to end our relationship over something trivial?"

"First of all, if you can do it _I _can. And second, the word _relationship_ implies at least a minimal degree of personal involvement. When you go two months without speaking more than a dozen words to someone, that is _not _a relationship. In fact, it's a lack of a relationship."

"I'm not going to argue semantics with you."

"Glad to hear it."

"But I feel you deserve to know the truth."

"What truth?"

"Things were actually great at first. I want you to know that."

"But apparently they're not _great_ anymore."

"After the first few weeks, I began to feel closed in, smothered. It wasn't anyone's fault. It's just the way it turned out. There was so much overlap between us that I could no longer tell where I ended and you began. There were no boundaries to speak of, and I started craving personal space."

"And that's why you're asking me to move out, because you need personal space?"

"No…that really is because of Sam. But also because...I was afraid that if you and I continued to live together, I would probably end up resenting you."

"More so than you already do? I didn't think that was even possible."

"..."

"And if you and Sam live together long enough, will you lose _her_ as a friend? Will _that _familiarity breed contempt?"

"It's...not the same thing."

"It's _exactly_ the same thing. You're saying it's inevitable that you will eventually tire of other people's company. Except that you don't really mean _other people_, do you? You mean _me_."

"I never meant for you to get as comfortable as you did, House. And if you got the wrong idea...I take full responsibility for that."

"..."

"I probably should have said something, especially when your piano was delivered. I should have discouraged you from dropping anchor. I honestly have no idea why I didn't."

"Am I supposed to glean some sort of comfort from that? You're basically saying that you regret ever giving me the impression that you gave a damn."

"That's not what..."

"Go to hell, Wilson."

"How can you _stand_ here and act like this is another one of your..."

"Just go to hell."

"Alright."

"..."

"Are you okay?"

"I think it's safe to say that you've forfeited the right to ask me that question, pretty much indefinitely."

"Fair enough."

"So...when is this going to happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, when do you need me out of here?"

"I already told you...we were thinking, maybe this weekend."

"I thought you were kidding."

"Why?"

"Because that's only six days from now."

"Yeah..."

"So let me get this straight. You've been dating a woman for about a month, and you're planning to not only share a home with her, but to spend the rest of your natural lives together as well."

"That's right."

"I think that just might be a new record for you."

"You're one to talk. You moved in with Stacy after knowing her for _three_ weeks."

"And as you can see, our relationship lasted forever and ever."

"It's not like Sam is a stranger, House."

"Right. Forgot that. You guys have a history. You didn't actually get divorced. You just took a _really_ long break."

"..."

"Of course that renders all that time in between completely pointless...kind of like decaffeinated coffee or porn with dialogue and a plot."

"I...don't even know what that means."

"Do you seriously think you _know_ her, who she is now, who she's become? Do you know whether or not she's changed at all, or in what capacity? How can you be sure that she isn't the same conniving, manipulative harpy that you were married to before?

"House..."

"How the hell do you know you're not just looking for something convenient to cram into the empty space that Amber once filled?"

"I don't, okay? I can't know _any _of those things for sure. I know it's possible that this relationship will fail. I know that the odds are against us."

"Then why are you doing this?"

"Because I'd like to have the freedom to figure it out."


	49. Home Improvement II

_Second half of House and Wilson's conversation. Hopefully it won't be as upsetting for you to read it as it was for me to write it._

* * *

**Home Improvement: Part II**

"So is that all you've got to say?"

"No."

"Well whatever it is, can we just hurry up and get it over with?"

"..."

"Or we could just stand here and stare at one another. That works too."

"Look...I know this is short notice. I know you didn't see it coming. I know that I made no effort to warn you in advance. If you need a little more time to move your things, I'll do my best to accommodate you. I know you just had the last of your stuff delivered. I know this is going to be a huge inconvenience for you. I acknowledge and take responsibility for all of that. If you want...I will personally arrange to have your things boxed up and moved. I'll even pay for it myself."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Once again, the day is saved...thanks to _Rationalization Man_."

"..."

"You should have a cape."

"..."

"Or at least some sort of theme music."

"..."

"Are you going to buy me chocolate and flowers too? Just so you know, I prefer silver to gold, nothing gaudy, something tasteful...classy. You can never go wrong with pearls."

"What the hell does..."

"I'm not one of your wives, Wilson."

"I never said you were."

"My point being, I'm not planning to drag your ass into court or hit you up for alimony. You don't owe me anything. So you don't have to _schmooze _me."

"I just admitted that I'm inconveniencing you and offered my assistance."

"God, you're selfless. I'm seriously getting choked up over here. Either that or I'm gagging on my own vomit. It's definitely one or the other."

"Hey...do you want my help or not? Because the offer is about to be withdrawn."

"Not if the price is going to be my self respect."

"..."

"I don't need your help, Wilson."

"If you say so."

"I have plenty of experience with relocating. I used to move once or twice a year when I was a kid. One year we actually moved three times. We had it down to a science. Sometimes we wouldn't even bother to unpack, because we knew that we'd only be leaving again. We'd just...keep everything in boxes."

"That's...depressing."

"You have no idea."

"But you can't possibly move the furniture all by yourself."

"Oh, I'm _sure_ I'll find a way."

"I don't want you to refuse my help, just because you're trying to prove that you don't need..."

"Wow, would you look at the time? I need to get to bed. I've got school tomorrow."

"Can we please finish discussing this?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because there's nothing left to discuss."

"I really think..."

"Be sure to let Sam know that _her_ garbage disposal is pretty much fixed."

"House…"

"Tell her not to use it without running the water first, preferably hot. And tell her to put a towel down in the cupboard below, so that if anymore water leaks out of the pipe, it won't damage the wood underneath."

"Are you listening to me?"

"And stop putting the melon rind and eggshells down the drain. I think that's what clogged it up in the first place."

"I need to know that you're hearing me."

"Yeah, I'm hearing you alright."

"Good."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I just wasted two hours on my back under the kitchen sink, fixing a garbage disposal that I'm probably never going to use again. I'd like to take a shower and go to bed."

"We're not done talking about this."

"Yes we are. We've exhausted the topic. There's nothing left to argue about."

"There isn't?"

"Nope."

"..."

"I mean hey...you're absolutely right."

"Right about what?"

"Everything."

"..."

"It's your place, not mine. It was _never_ mine. My name isn't on the lease. The building manager doesn't even know that I exist. Legally I have no right to be here at all. In fact, technically I'm trespassing. So if you want me out, just say the word and I'll leave."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Do you have any idea where you're going to go?"

"Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters. I don't want you to be...homeless."

"Well you certainly have a unique way of expressing that."

"I just meant..."

"I _know_ what you meant."

"..."

"Don't worry about where I'm going to go, Wilson."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not your problem."

"..."

"And anyway...I'm sure you have _much_ more important things to attend to."

"Right."

"..."

"You know, maybe I could talk to Sam."

"About what?"

"Maybe...maybe we could reach some sort of compromise. I mean there are two bedrooms here and she and I will obviously only need one of them. Maybe you could stay, just for a while, just until you've had enough time to find a new place..."

"Yeah, I'm sure she'd _really_ go for that. What newlywed couple _wouldn't_ want to share their home with a middle-aged, crippled, recovering drug addict? She doesn't even want you spending your free time with me. Do you think she's going to want me sleeping in the next room?"

"I'm just...I can't help feeling like I'm throwing you out on the street here."

"That's because you _are_."

"..."

"Hey...just consider it a public service announcement from your friendly, neighborhood realist."

"..."

"I mean, it's not like I spent all summer in a mental hospital and you promised my shrink you wouldn't leave me alone or anything. Because otherwise we might have a problem."

"That was almost a year ago."

"Oh...well I'm obviously all better now. I'm glad you told me, or I would never have known."

"Are you saying you're _not_ better?"

"Most days...I don't know what I am. I may very well spend the rest of my life trying to figure it out."

"And you think that you need _me_ to do that?"

"..."

"How long do you think it will take for you to get_ better_? How much more time could you possibly need?"

"I don't know, Wilson. How long did it take you to get over Amber's death? _Are_ you over Amber's death? Does Sam know that she's competing with a dead woman for your affections? Are you into necrophilia? Maybe you guys can have a threesome."

"I hardly see how that's relevant...you can't compare whatever the hell _this_ is with the death of a loved one."

"Yes...because nothing traumatic has happened to me in the last five to ten years and nobody I know has passed away recently."

"..."

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Wilson. Not that you've ever allowed that to stop you before. I'm just saying."

"Well it's not like you've made any effort to share anything with me either."

"..."

"Look...I'm sorry. I know that you've been through a lot. I didn't mean to imply that you hadn't. I didn't mean to dismiss your pain or suggest that whatever you might be..."

"Stop it with the schmoozing, Wilson. I already told you that you don't have to wine and dine me."

"I'm not _schmoozing_. That's not even...what the hell am I supposed to say, House? Tell me what you want me to say. Tell me what you want to hear."

"You could start with the truth."

"What truth?"

"That deep down, you don't really care all that much about how I feel or what I need. You never did. You just want to _believe _that you do. More importantly, you want _other_ people to believe you do."

"..."

"The funny thing is...you say I'm selfish, that I'm miserable, that I'm emotionally detached. But _you_...when you want something, I mean _really_ want something, you don't care what ethical compromises you have to make in order to get it...you focus on whatever shiny object it is that's got you so enraptured at the moment and pretty much everything else in your life goes to hell."

"..."

"Of course when the spell wears off, you expect everything to be exactly where you left it, like it had nothing better to do than just sit there, waiting for you to return."

"..."

"What's ironic is that_ you're _the one with the reputation for being such a nice guy. You're the one who's known for being polite, for being generous, for being a people pleaser."

"And why is that ironic?"

"Because it's just a facade. You're all persona, Wilson. The truth is, most of the time you're just looking out for number one...and you're probably ten times the douchebag that I could ever be."

"I'm not...I _do_ care, House."

"Okay."

"You don't believe me?"

"I believe that _you_ believe you."

"..."

"Well...this has been a blast. But I'd like to go to bed. You know, while it's still considered _my_ bed."

"I don't feel good about this, House."

"Gee, I am _so_ sorry to hear that. Because I feel _great_ about it."

"I don't feel like this issue is resolved."

"That's because it's not."

"Help me out here."

"Help _you_ out?"

"..."

"I don't even know how you can say that with a straight face."

"..."

"I mean, that's some serious talent right there. If you can fake sincerity..."

"It's not trying to be...I'm just...I'm wondering if there's anything I can do to make this easier, okay?"

"Easier for me or easier for you?"

"Both."

"Nope."

"So there's _nothing _I can do?"

"The only thing you can do is the one thing you have no intention of doing. Which is why there's no point in discussing it."

"What is it that you think I have _no intention _of doing?"

"Face it, Wilson. You don't _really_ care. You're insulting us both by insisting that you do."

"I _do_ care."

"Just not enough to do anything about it. You want to be able to give everyone what they want, without having to make any sacrifices or compromises. The thing is, most of the time in life, someone winning means that someone else has to lose."

"..."

"You feel guilty."

"Yeah, I do."

"Good."

"..."

"Guilt is irrational, Wilson. But it exists for a reason."

"And what reason is that?"

"It tells us when were acting like selfish, intolerable pricks."

"..."

"And frankly, I refuse to absolve you of it."

"You're hurt."

"Nope."

"It's okay House. You have every right to be."

"Wow. I'm _so_ glad I have your permission to be offended by your asshattery."

"..."

"And anyway, I'm not hurt. I'm...angry."

"Then _tell _me that."

"I think I just did."

"..."

"But seriously...why does it matter?"

"Why does _what _matter?"

"How I feel. Why does it matter whether or not I'm hurt or angry? Is telling you about it going to change anything?"

"..."

"If I kick and fuss and pout, will I eventually get my way?"

"..."

"I already know from experience that I won't. So why bother? Why the hell should I even waste that energy? I could be spending it on something that would be more fulfilling...like pretty much anything."

"I just...don't want you to hold it all inside."

"..."

"Isn't that what landed you in the mental hospital in the first place...repressed emotions?"

"Yeah, you_ really _care about my repressed emotions."

"I just mean...if you're upset, I think you should talk about it."

"I _do _talk about it...just not with you."

"Right."

"And anyway...it's not like this is even about me at all."

"It's not?"

"This is about you needing to ease your own conscience. You need to be okay with every decision you make, even when you know you probably shouldn't be. You want to be able to walk away, feeling good about yourself...you want to be able to tell yourself that you were _there_ for me, even if it was only in a superficial capacity. Because for some absurd reason, you need to maintain that illusion in order to get to sleep at night."

"It's not an _illusion_, House."

"You have no idea what I'd be doing right now, if I wasn't _holding it all inside_."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"That you should be thankful I'm capable of restraint."

"Are you saying you'd what..._hit _me? Is this some kind of threat?"

"It's not a threat."

"It sure sounds like one."

"I don't need to resort to violence."

"Well that's good to know."

"And if had any reason to believe that hitting you would actually do some sort of good, I would have clocked you one a long time ago."

"Gee, thanks."

"No problem."

"..."

"I'm too old for this crap, Wilson."

"Too old for what?"

"To play this game of cat and mouse...to chase after you, in the off chance that you _might_ feel like including me in your life."

"..."

"You've been one step ahead of me since the day we met. And like a fool, I've been trying desperately to keep up."

"..."

"But you can relax now."

"Why's that?"

"Because I'm dropping out of the race."

"..."

"I'm not a kid anymore. I'm a middle-aged, physically handicapped bachelor, who suffers chronic pain and who is recovering from clinical depression and both a drug _and_ alcohol addiction. I'm probably never going to have a serious relationship with someone of the opposite sex, or anyone of the_ same_ sex, for that matter. I don't have any friends to speak of. I don't have any siblings. My father is dead and my mother isn't going to live a whole lot longer. It's unlikely that I'll ever have children or a family of my own. I don't even have any pets."

"..."

"Most of the time...just getting through the day without feeling compelled to rely on any controlled substances is an accomplishment. So I don't have the energy or the enthusiasm to do battle with your most recent romantic conquest, especially when I already know that it will be futile. If you want me to leave, I'll leave. There will be no argument. There's no coercion required."

"Really."

"I spent ninety percent of my adult life living alone. I think I can handle it."

"..."

"Not that you're worried or anything. I'm just saying, in case you were."

"You don't think I'm worried?"

"I'm sure you _are_ worried...just not about the right things."

"..."

"Starting tomorrow night, I'll be sleeping in my office."

"That's not necessary, House. You're more than welcome to stay here until you figure out where you're going to go."

"I've spent far too much of my life in places where no one actually wanted me around. I think I'd rather sleep on a park bench in the dead of winter, than continue staying here, knowing that you and your _pussy de jour _are probably counting the seconds until I leave."

"I never said..."

"I paid in advance for the storage space. So it's mine until the end of the year. I'll rent a van and start moving my things back into it as soon as I can. Then I'll work on finding somewhere else to stay."

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"It's not even in the same solar system as what I want to do."

"..."

"But I don't really have a choice either. Do I?"

"House...just listen to me for a moment."

"I can't imagine that you have anything to say that I'd want to hear, at this point."

"Can you just listen? Just give me two minutes."

"I'll give you thirty seconds."

"I don't want this to come between us."

"..."

"What?"

"Please..._please_ tell me that you're joking."

"Why?"

"Because the alternative is that you really are as stupid as you sound. In fact, I'm starting to wonder how you can make it through the day without injuring yourself."

"..."

"You should probably consider investing in elbow pads and a helmet, just in case."

"I'm not joking, House."

"Then I must say, I'm impressed."

"By what?"

"Even after all these years, you're still capable of baffling me with your lack of self awareness."

"How the hell does..."

"I mean, think about it. Your head must be so far up your ass at this point, that you'll probably never again see the light of day."

"Is it really necessary for you to insult me like this?"

"Necessary? No. That's purely recreational on my part."

"..."

"But considering what you've just told me, I think I've earned the right to have a little fun at your expense."

"I don't even understand what you're getting at."

"Well allow me to dumb it down for you. There is no_ us _for this to come between, Wilson."

"..."

"There hasn't been in a long time...maybe even longer than I'd prefer to believe."

"..."

"And just in case there were any lingering doubts, this conversation pretty much confirms it."

"..."

"Be sure to tell Sam I said _congratulations_ on her victory. I'm sure she'll want to do some sort of triumphant, little endzone dance. And I'd rather not be around to see it."

"House..."

"I'm officially done talking about this."

"For now?"

"_Forever_."

"..."

"Can I go to bed please?"

"You don't need my permission to do that."

"Hey, it's _your_ place. I'm just a guest."

"..."

"I'll guess I'll be seeing you around then."

"Did you have some reason to believe that you wouldn't?"

"..."

"Don't you think you're being a little melodramatic? I mean, our offices are right next door to each other. I'll still be seeing you almost every day. It's not like I'm quitting my job or moving away."

"There are other ways to put distance between people, besides physical space."

"What does that mean?"

"That we might as well be miles apart."

"..."

"Say _goodnight_ Wilson."

"Why do I feel like I'm saying _goodbye_?"

"Because you are."


	50. Like a Prayer

_Part one of two. This was actually written a few weeks ago, as spoiler speculation for the second to last episode of season 6. But I didn't post it, because I was posting something else. Warning -p__eripheral character death._

_Conversation between House and Wilson. This two parter is AU to the rest of the verse._

* * *

_"Life is a mystery. Everyone must stand alone."_

**Like A Prayer**

"Hey."

"..."

"Cuddy said I could find you here."

"..."

"I actually thought she was kidding."

"..."

"So...I guess I owe Chase twenty bucks now."

"…"

"Have you seriously been in here all afternoon?"

"..."

"Are you okay, House?"

"…"

"I mean, I know you're not _okay_. But are you…okay?"

"…"

"House?"

"What?"

"Why are you wearing sunglasses?"

"..."

"It's practically dark outside."

"I'm trying to start a trend."

"I'm pretty sure Ray Charles beat you to it."

"I'm going _incognito_."

"By wearing something that's guaranteed to draw people's attention? Cunning plan."

"..."

"Can you take them off for a minute?"

"Why?"

"I kind of like to see someone's eyes when I'm talking to them."

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"..."

"You're joking, right? You're seriously refusing to take them off?"

"Yep. Deal with it."

"_Ever_ again?"

"..."

"Why the hell would you be wearing sunglasses indoors?"

"I guess we'll never know."

"Do you have a hangover?"

"Nope."

"Did someone punch you in the face?"

"Not in the last forty-eight hours."

"Do you have pink eye?"

"..."

"Wait a minute..."

"Don't."

"But..."

"Seriously, _don't_."

"Have you been crying?"

"I'm pretty sure I just said _don't_."

"It's a reasonable question."

"For anyone else, it would be."

"Are you saying you're physically incapable of producing tears?"

"..."

"That means your parasympathetic nervous system might not be working properly. You could have a brain tumor. You should get it checked out."

"I don't have a _brain tumor_."

"Oh...well then you're just full of crap."

"..."

"And your cheeks look flushed."

"Your point being?"

"My point being that your cheeks look flushed. What else would I mean?"

"It's windburn."

"Which you somehow acquired, despite the absence of wind."

"..."

"And then there's the fact that you sound congested."

"It's allergy season."

"Yes…this hospital is just teeming with airborne spores and pollen. You really should consider sporting a face mask."

"I took some Benadryl."

"So?"

"So I'm sure it will kick in soon enough...meaning that there's no need to discuss it any further."

"And you'd probably like me to just accept that as your explanation for why you're wearing sunglasses indoors at five o'clock in the evening, despite its complete and utter ridiculousness."

"That would be nice, yes."

"Okay...I'll play along, for now."

"I appreciate it."

"So what are you doing in here anyway?"

"Feeling sorry for myself, mostly."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"..."

"What do people _normally_ do in here?"

"You mean you're actually…_praying_?"

"Well…not since you interrupted me."

"I'm...sorry."

"I'd do the whole kneeling thing. But I don't think I'd be able to get back up again."

"Right."

"Do you think it still counts, even if I'm not kneeling? Aren't there like...rules for this sort of thing?"

"This from the man who's wearing Ray-Bans in church. Since when do you care about rules?"

"They're Black Flys actually."

"I don't think it's mandatory that you assume any specific posture. And even if it were, I'm sure God's well aware of your physical limitations."

"Well he should be. He's the one who _smited _me in the first place."

"So...do you want me to come back later?"

"Why?"

"I just thought maybe...some people consider prayer to be a private thing."

"And some people think that scorpions make good pets."

"..."

"I was just about finished anyway."

"Do you mind if I sit down then?"

"You don't need my permission, Wilson. You may have noticed that it's a public chapel. And there are easily forty vacant pews here. Take your pick."

"Right."

"…"

"So…I'm pretty sure I can figure out why you're here. But considering your recent choice in reading material, I can't help thinking this is related in some way to your biological father."

"It's hardly recent. I finished reading that book months ago."

"..."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't expect you to know that. You've been busy."

"..."

"Anyway, you're wrong. He has absolutely nothing to do with me being here right now."

"..."

"And normally I'd be more than happy to do this with you. But I'm afraid I'm just a tad too preoccupied to subject myself to your pop psychology."

"Hey, I think it's great that you're exploring your spirituality."

"Did you hear what I just said?"

"Yes, you lied because you don't want to talk about why you're really here."

"I'm not _exploring_ anything."

"Everyone needs something they can believe in, something they can derive comfort from."

"I haven't...this isn't the result of some kind of epiphany. This isn't some major life change or midlife crisis, and I'm not planning to convert."

"Then what _are_ you doing?"

"I already told you."

"Yeah but…why?"

"I'm just trying to give myself the illusion of control."

"But praying doesn't give you control, House. It gives _God_ control."

"Yeah well… I can't just sit here. My friend is probably bleeding to death on an operating table right now. Cuddy has decided I'm so completely incapable of objectivity, that it would be easier for the surgeon to do his job if I wasn't literally breathing down his neck. I'm not allowed to come within fifty feet of the OR, until the surgery is complete. So this is pretty much all I _can_ do."

"And you're okay with that?"

"No, I'm not _okay_ with it."

"..."

"But she did the right thing."

"You really think so?"

"I'm not objective. If anything happened, I would have no choice but to react emotionally. And as a result, I'd probably end up making some very bad decisions."

"But you could always observe from the theater."

"So I can spend several hours, pacing like a caged tiger? No thanks. I'd probably end up wearing a hole in the carpet."

"Do you want me to go check on his status?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"They said they'd page me when he was moved to recovery. If the surgery goes well, it shouldn't be too much longer, an hour at the most."

"What about if it _doesn't _go well?"

"Then I'm sure I'll find out eventually."

"And you're just going to wait?"

"..."

"You're not going to sneak in there and ambush them or coerce them into giving you information?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint you Wilson. But I'm too tired to be an asshole today. I don't know if you're aware of this. But it actually demands a great deal of energy."

"And when has that ever stopped you before?"

"..."

"Something's obviously changed. The question is what."

"I would have thought that was fairly obvious."

"It's not your fault he got shot, House."

"You couldn't possibly know that."

"Why not?"

"Because you weren't there. You don't know what was said and you don't know what was done."

"..."

"It shouldn't have happened."

"That doesn't make it your fault."

"It does, actually."

"..."

"He was doing it for me."

"Doing _what_ for you?"

"The entire time I was staying with you, he was squatting at my apartment. He had no money to speak of, and he needed to eat. So I guess at some point he took it upon himself to pawn a bunch of my books. I tried to buy them all back. But one of the books had already been sold. After some coercion, I was able to get a name and an address, so I tracked down the guy who purchased it. I went to his house. I offered to give him five times what he'd paid for it. He basically laughed and slammed the door in my face."

"And where was your friend during all of this?"

"He was waiting for me in the car. I was kind of pissed about what had happened and I ranted about it the whole way home. The next day, he apparently broke into the guy's house, made an attempt to steal the book, and ended up getting shot."

"Have you spoken with the police yet?"

"Briefly. I haven't given any official testimony."

"Are you going to?"

"I doubt they'll even ask me."

"Why wouldn't they ask you?"

"Because I wasn't there. I have no idea what happened, why it happened or how it happened. Therefore my input on the matter is fairly useless."

"..."

"And besides that, I already know how this will go."

"..."

"Considering the circumstances, the chances of this guy being convicted are fairly slim. And even if he does end up suffering some kind of consequences for his actions, it won't change anything. The damage is already done."

"And what happens when he ends up shooting someone else?"

"That's not my problem."

"Withholding information that could be vital to someone's conviction is considered an obstruction of justice."

"It's not that I wouldn't love to see this guy behind bars. But the law doesn't work that way. When you break into someone's home, you're trespassing, and that changes the equation."

"Changes it how?"

"They're entitled to defend themselves and their property against intruders."

"..."

"And besides that, who do you think the jury's going to side with...the wealthy Caucasian philanthropist or the unemployed, mentally ill Puerto Rican kid from South Philly?"

"So this guy shoots somebody, possibly even _kills _somebody, and just goes on about his business?"

"The cops said the guy had a license for the gun."

"And that makes it okay?"

"No...it makes it _legal_."

"And you think this is all your fault."

"I _know_ it is."

"But you're not the one who shot him."

"I might as well have been the one who pulled the trigger."

"Whoa."

"What?"

"I just...can't remember ever seeing you like this before."

"Like what?"

"Repentant."

"This is not _repentance_."

"Then what the hell would you call it?"

"Why do you insist on romanticizing everything?"

"That's why you're here, isn't it?"

"..."

"You're...confessing your sins."

"I'm not _confessing_ anything."

"..."

"I don't understand the concept of confession anyway. If God is omniscient and all powerful, then he already _knows_ what you've done. So why the hell do you have to tell him anything?"

"..."

"And even if I _were_ confessing, which I'm not…don't worry. It doesn't mean anything. I'm still the same old self absorbed ass that you've always known."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. It's my goal to avoid growing as a person, at all costs. I know how much it would interfere with your life, if you were forced to start seeing me differently."

"But you are."

"Are what?"

"Different."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. I mean, not a _lot_. But since you've gotten out of Mayfield, you've been...I don't know. It's little things, nothing I can put a finger on."

"Nothing's changed, Wilson, nothing important. So don't get all excited. Because none of this means...anything."

"If it doesn't _mean _anything, then why are you doing it?"

"I already told you why. There's nothing else I _can_ do."

"But the fact that you're talking to God kind of implies that at least some small part of you acknowledges his existence."

"Not necessarily."

"So this is just a result of your inherent need to be productive."

"Forgive me for wanting to make good use of my time."

"What religion is he?"

"Who?"

"Your friend."

"Roman Catholic."

"Uh huh."

"What?"

"This isn't about _time_."

"..."

"You know that it's possible that he might not make it through this. If that happens, you want to be able to tell yourself that you did everything you could...even if that means temporarily abandoning your own beliefs in favor of his."

"..."

"Do you believe in God?"

"I might if this prayer gets answered."

"_Seriously?"_

"..."

"And what if it _doesn't_ get answered?"

"Then I won't."

"You're basically just flipping a coin here."

"I'm aware of that."

"Do you really think that's the best way to reach such an important decision?"

"It works for Harvey Dent."

"Yes, well...it's perfectly healthy to emulate the behavior of comic book villains."

"Hey, Harvey's not a villain. He's just misunderstood."

"And what about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Are _you_ a villain, or are you just misunderstood?"

"If you haven't figured that out by now, then you probably never will."

"So what exactly are you praying for, aside from the obvious?"

"The obvious."

"And…do you think it's going to work?"

"Nope."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Haven't we been over this?"

"Yeah, there's _nothing else you can do_."

"..."

"I don't mean to be callous. But you know as well as I do that there's only about a twenty percent chance that Juan will survive the surgery. Even if they're able to repair the artery that supplies blood to the..."

"Alvie."

"What?"

"His name is Alvie."

"What kind of name is Alvie?"

"His name is Juan Alvarez. Alvie is short for _Alvarez_."

"Okay...so you're basically challenging God to perform a miracle on _Alvie_, in order to gain your allegiance. Giving a deity an ultimatum...I have never heard of that ending well for anyone."

"If God cares so much whether or not I believe in him, logic dictates that he'd want to do whatever it would take to facilitate that."

"Yes...except that logic doesn't apply to faith, House."

"..."

"And God is not going to go to the trouble to dazzle you with his mad skills. He'll probably do whatever the hell he was going to do anyway, whether you pray about it or not."

"Well then it's no mystery why he's not winning any popularity contests. Given the rapidly growing population of atheists on the planet, he may want to consider firing his publicist."

"Your criteria still seems kind of arbitrary to me."

"How so?"

"You've created a very narrow window through which it would be possible for you experience faith."

"..."

"But at the same time, you're willing to allow this _one_ thing to determine whether or not you choose to believe in an all-powerful God."

"So?"

"So I think you _want_ to believe."

"Nope."

"You don't?"

"I don't want Alvie to die, and my goal is to do whatever I can to prevent that, no matter superstitious or hokey it might seem. If I had any reason to believe that skinny dipping in a giant vat of strawberry flavored Jello would save his life, then I'd be buck naked and up to my neck in some right now."

"That's sweet, House."

"..."

"But you're basically saying that you'll believe in God, as long as gives you what you want."

"I'm pretty sure that's the universal approach to theism. Why do you think people pray in the first place? They _want_ something."

"Not necessarily. Prayer can also be used to confess, to praise, to express gratitude."

"Yeah well, I'm fresh out of gratitude today. And I don't think I'm being unreasonable. I'm not asking for fame or fortune. I'm not asking to win the Nobel prize. I'm not asking to get laid around the clock by identical twin, Japanese gymnasts. I just don't want my friend to die. Is that so wrong?"

"I don't think it's about right or wrong."

"Yeah? If we eliminate right and wrong, what the hell does that leave us with?"

"Everything in between."

"..."

"See what I don't get is...you claim not to believe in God, that you don't even want to believe in him. And yet here you are, praying."

"So?"

"So...in order to pray, you must first believe that God exists. You have to believe that he can hear you, that he's capable of fulfilling your request."

"Believing in God is like playing the Lotto."

"Oh this ought to be good."

"Your chances of winning are rather slim. But you invest your money because you know that eventually, some lucky sap will end up with a million bucks. Even though you know it's highly unlikely, you take comfort in the possibility that it _could_ be you."

"And does that give _you_ any sort of comfort?"

"I told you, _illusion of control_."

"But you're not actually _in_ control."

"That's why it's an illusion."

"So you're comforted by the _idea_ of having control."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Your _thing_."

"What _thing_?"

"Can you just..._not_ be you today? Or better yet, go back to ignoring me."

"..."

"If all you're going to do is pick this apart, until there's nothing left but bone and grizzle, you can leave."

"I can't make observations?"

"Did it ever occur to you that when I choose _not_ to share something, it might not be meant as a challenge? It might just mean that I'd like there to be at least one molecule of my life that goes unexamined by James Evan Wilson."

"..."

"What are you doing here anyway? Don't you have some girlfriend you're supposed to be spending every waking second of your free time with?"

"She's my fiancé, remember?"

"Sorry, I forgot. Congratulations. Sinatra was right. It's _always_ better, the second time around."

"She's working a double shift tonight. I won't even be seeing her again until about ten-thirty. I'm all yours until then."

"Wow...it must be my lucky day. All but the part where my friend sustained three gunshot wounds to the chest at close range. But other than that, it's been super."

"And I don't know what you're talking about either. She has nothing against you, House. She obviously had some issues with you, at first. But you can hardly pin that on her. All in all, she actually finds you very entertaining."

"I don't know how she can _find_ me anything. In the last three months, I've spent all of five minutes in her presence."

"You haven't exactly gone out of your way to get to know her."

"Gee I can't imagine why."

"And I don't spend _every waking second _of free time with her either. I do have a job, you know."

"If you say so."

"And I..."

"I think I'd like you to leave now."

"I thought you were done praying."

"I am."

"What happened to this being a _public chapel_?"

"You're well within your rights to be here. Which is why I'm not _telling_ you to leave. I'm _asking_ you."

"Doesn't sound like it."

"..."

"I don't know what you want me to say, House."

"Are you hard of hearing? I don't want you to _say_ anything. I want you to leave."

"Too bad. I'm not leaving."

"Then can you at least stop talking?"

"Why?"

"Because it's hard to ignore you if you won't shut up."

* * *

_Madonna. "Like A Prayer." Studio Album. Warner Bros. 1989. _


	51. Like a Prayer II

_Remember when I said there might be three parts? Well you know how it is with me._

_Meanwhile, back in my pleasantly Huddy free verse..._

**

* * *

**

Like a Prayer: Part II

"So you guys were room mates at the psychiatric hospital, huh?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't pretend to care."

"You don't think I care?"

"I don't know, Wilson. But I don't really feel like talking about this anymore."

"..."

"If that means _anything_ at all."

"I'm curious."

"Of course you are."

"You never said anything about it, what it was like when you were staying there."

"You never asked."

"Was I supposed to?"

"Nope."

"..."

"Given your brother's situation, I just assumed that it would be a touchy subject for you. I figured the less you had to hear about it, the better."

"Well...I'm asking now."

"Why?"

"I want to know what happened."

"Again...why?"

"I want to know what it was that led to this...personal growth. I want to know a little more about the guy who possesses the ability to make you seek guidance and assistance from a God that you claim not to believe in."

"Yeah, we were room mates."

"Are you deflecting?"

"Apparently not very well."

"So...what's he like?"

"You met him when he got here."

"He was unconscious and in hypovolemic shock."

"Well you know what they say...you never get a second chance to make a first impression."

"How old is he?"

"What difference does it make?"

"..."

"He's twenty-eight."

"Where is he from, originally?"

"What are you, writing an article for Reader's Digest? His life is _not_ that interesting."

"..."

"He was born in West Philadelphia. His parents were born in Puerto Rico and both moved to Florida when they were kids. At some point, they relocated to Pennsylvania. Oh yeah...and his mother was only sixteen when he was born. Real Jerry Springer type stuff."

"And that's it?"

"What the hell else could you possibly want to know?"

"I don't know. What else _is_ there to know?"

"..."

"You still haven't told me what he's like."

"Well...he never shuts up for more than thirty seconds at a time, except when he's sleeping or apparently when someone shoots him in the chest."

"What does he do for a living?"

"He refers to himself as a _freestyle rap artist_."

"Where did he go to college?"

"He didn't."

"..."

"He never even completed high school, despite having nearly perfect SAT scores and an IQ of one thirty-seven."

"But he's a musician?"

"If you want to call rap _music_, sure."

"..."

"Sometimes he performs at local clubs, makes a few bucks here and there. But he doesn't exactly have a_ real _job."

"Then how does he pay his bills...aside from hocking your personal belongings for cash?"

"He gets a disability check every month, from the government."

"In what way is he _disabled_?"

"He's bipolar."

"Lots of bipolar people hold down jobs."

"He goes through rapid cycles, some of which are quite extreme. He's perfectly fine when he's on his meds, which is great when he's actually taking them. But usually he'll only take them for a few weeks or months at a time. As soon as he starts to feel better, he convinces himself that he doesn't need them anymore."

"And then he just stops taking them?"

"Cold turkey."

"..."

"Thing is...any attempts to discontinue the use of antipsychotics or mood stabilizers should be done very slowly and carefully. Because once you've started taking them, if you decide for whatever reason to suddenly stop, you actually end up worse off than you were before you were even medicated."

"Wor_se off_ how?"

"Acute withdrawal can result in bouts of delirium, dissociation, psychosis, reckless, promiscuous and often criminal behavior, hypervigalence, self mutilation, panic attacks and stress induced seizures. Alvie's been in and out of one kind of hospital or another for his entire adult life."

"Does he live alone? When he's not institutionalized, I mean."

"He lived with his sister and her kids for a while. But I guess she finally had enough of him. A few months ago, before he started staying at my place, he moved into a group home for developmentally disabled adults."

"But he's not really _developmentally__ disabled_, is he?"

"No...but he's already been kicked out of several group homes and this was the only place left that was willing to take him in."

"Kicked out for what?"

"Pretty much anything you can think of. He's not terribly fond of authority, or rules for that matter."

"What about his parents? Couldn't he stay with them?"

"They both died when he was kid. He was raised by his aunt and uncle."

"What did they die of?"

"I have no idea."

"Huh."

"..."

"But you still haven't told me, what exactly it is that you like about him."

"..."

"Or maybe you just don't know."

"I_ do _know, actually."

"Then why can't you tell me?"

"Because I also know that anything I tell you will inevitably be dissected, analyzed to death and run through a chipper-shredder, until nothing remains but some mulch-like substance that vaguely resembles my original point."

"..."

"And then there's the fact that I _still _don't want to talk about it. But I guess we're just disregarding that for now."

"There must be _something_ special about him. You ordinarily hate people. You go out of your way to avoid forming relationships. But _this_ guy...I don't think I've seen you _that_ excited about another human being since...Stacy."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"What does it _usually _mean when someone is excited about someone else?"

"..."

"Of course that probably depends on how you define _excited_."

"I'm not above decking someone in a church, Wilson. Just a little something you might want to ponder, before you decide whether or not to open your mouth again."

"..."

"I mean, I get that this probably seems like a great opportunity to exact some sort of revenge, a little payback for all the years I spent mocking you for giving a crap about...pretty much anything. And you'd be well within your rights to do it too. But would it kill you to show a little sensitivity?"

"No."

"..."

"I just…I've never seen this side of you, House. It's...different."

"What _side_ is that?"

"The side that cares."

"Well now you can say that you've seen it. So there's no reason for you to stay one second longer. Have a nice evening."

"I'm not leaving, House."

"Hmm...perhaps I'm being to subtle."

"..."

"Go away, Wilson."

"I told you, I'm not leaving."

"Seriously, scram. Be gone. Away with thee. Adiós. Sayonara. Auf Wiedersehen."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's so special about this guy."

"_Nothing_."

"I don't believe you."

"What else is new?"

"What are you hiding?"

"I'm not _hiding_ anything."

"Then why not just tell me?"

"Because it's none of your goddamn business."

"But you..."

"Stop it, Wilson. Just _stop_."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll knock your fucking teeth down you're throat. How about that?"

"..."

"And then you won't be pretty anymore."

"..."

"You'll get to find out how the other half lives."

"I don't see how..."

"You might want to think _really_ hard about the next thing that comes out of your mouth. Because I'm in the mood to commit physical violence, there are no witnesses around, and I've got absolutely nothing left to lose."

"If you want to hit me, go ahead. I just want to know why you're so reluctant to talk about this."

"..."

"Or if you even _have _a reason."

"I have a reason."

"Then why can't you tell me what it is."

"Because you wouldn't understand."

"Why don't you give me a chance, before you decide that something is beyond my comprehension?"

"Because I'm intimately familiar with your limitations."

"Fine."

"Is it?"

"Hey...maybe you're right. Maybe I wouldn't understand. Maybe I'm just _that_ dense."

"You must be dense, if you thought I'd fall for your mediocre attempt at reverse psychology. Do you actually _know _someone who's that gullible?"

"..."

"Stupid question."

"..."

"Alvie...is different, okay?"

"Different from you?"

"Different from _everyone_."

"How?"

"It's not...I can't explain."

"Try."

"I don't think there's even a word in the English language to accurately describe him."

"So just pick the closest thing you can come up with."

"Real."

"What?"

"He's...real."

"Does that mean that other people _aren't_ real?"

"_Most_ people aren't real."

"..."

"And it's not just that. It's like...when he looks at me, he's actually seeing _me_."

"What the hell else would he be seeing?"

"Whatever it is that everybody else sees."

"..."

"He sees the things I never say, the things I _can't_ say, the things I don't know _how_ to say."

"So he's got you all figured out. That sounds like something that would ordinarily annoy you."

"It did...at first."

"But then it didn't. Why?"

"..."

"Think about it. You're not the most patient person on the planet. You voluntarily subjected yourself to this guy's personality flaws, which were apparently severe enough that even the members of his immediate family weren't willing to tolerate them. There has to be a reason."

"There is."

"What is it?"

"I never have to explain myself to him."

"Explain yourself how?"

"I just mean...he understands my logic. He can effortlessly follow my train of thought."

"And you don't know anyone else who can do that?"

"I used to."

"..."

"He also takes me at face value. He doesn't assume that I'm lying or that I have some hidden agenda."

"..."

"And the funniest part is...he _knows_ me."

"How is that funny?"

"Because unlike the majority of the people I come into contact with, his perception of me is accurate."

"I still don't understand how that's funny."

"Because he likes me anyway...because he _likes_ me at all."

"..."

"He spends time with me by choice. He doesn't have to be paid, or begged or bribed. And he doesn't act like I owe him something, just because he's willing to tolerate my company."

"..."

"He's not stupid and he's not naive. He's not even desperate for companionship. He just...likes me. He likes me the way I am. He doesn't regard me as something that needs to be fixed. Our relationship doesn't consist solely of him trying in vain to change me into something I'm not."

"..."

"And I didn't think people like that even existed."

"It sounds like you two have a lot in common."

"Why would you say that?"

"You mentioned that he's highly intelligent."

"So?"

"You also mentioned that he's a bit of a nonconformist...that he has issues with rules and authority figures, that he frequently engages in reckless behavior...and to top it off, you're apparently both musicians."

"What's your point?"

"House...he doesn't think there's anything wrong with you, because I'm guessing he doesn't think there's anything wrong with _him_."

"Are you saying there _is_ something wrong with him?"

"No...I'm saying that he likes you, because you validate his eccentricities."

"Is that so wrong?"

"No."

"..."

"But it would explain why he idolizes you."

"I said he _likes_ me. I didn't say he _idolizes_ me."

"I think his sister would disagree."

"..."

"I overheard the two of you talking, out in the hall earlier."

"We were speaking Spanish."

"I...understood enough to know what you were talking about."

"Great."

"..."

"What else did you hear?"

"Nothing, I swear."

"Sure."

"Hey...it's not like I was eavesdropping. I was less than ten feet away. You must have seen me standing there."

"I _did_ see you standing there, you moron. That's why I was speaking Spanish."

"Oh for...you're not the only one around here who speaks Spanish, House."

"No...but I _am_ the only one who didn't learn it from watching re-runs of Sesame Street."

"..."

"So can we stop talking about this now?"

"..."

"Oh good."

"You've got at least another hour before your friend is moved into recovery."

"You mean _if _he's moved into recovery."

"Fine..._if_. But either way, you're probably going to want to see him then."

"It's not like he'll be awake."

"..."

"He probably won't regain consciousness for at least another twelve hours, depending on how much anesthesia he was given."

"..."

"And if he's dead, he _really _won't be regaining consciousness."

"But you'll probably at least want to check on him...right?"

"Which you feel the need to bring up because?"

"I was just thinking...maybe you could take advantage of that slot of free time to maybe...take a shower, freshen up."

"You think I need to _freshen up_?"

"I wouldn't have mentioned it otherwise."

"I can shower later, Wilson."

"Okay...then at least change out of your clothing."

"Why?"

"Because you're covered with someone else's blood."

"We're all covered with_ someone's _blood...metaphorically speaking."

"Metaphorical blood tends to be slightly less messy."

"I'm fine, really. I'm a doctor, for God's sake. I think I can handle a little blood."

"You're a walking biohazard."

"Technically a_ limping _biohazard."

"House..."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Well you'd know, wouldn't you? Why don't you tell me what I'm thinking, while you're at it."

"I don't understand why it's so hard for you to..."

"I said, I'm_ fine_."

"If you were _fine_, you wouldn't be sitting in the chapel at five o'clock in the evening, wearing sunglasses."

"Different kind of _fine_."

"You're scaring people."

"Yeah, that's _really _new."

"Okay...I see I'm going to have to be a tad more direct here. You're scaring _me_."

"Good."

"_Good_?"

"You could stand to be scared every once in a while."

"I think you should know...Cuddy actually _asked_ me to track you down and get you to change your clothing."

"That's only because it's harder to suck money out of donors, when members of your staff are dressed like extras from a Wes Craven movie."

"..."

"If Cuddy wants me to do something, then she can track me down and ask me herself."

"Yes...because that's always made such a _huge_ difference."

"..."

"And when has Cuddy ever succeeded in tracking you down?"

"She knew I was in here, didn't she?"

"..."

"What do you want from me, Wilson?"

"I don't want _anything_ from you."

"Then why the hell are you even talking to me right now? Why are you talking to me at all? Is it just because Cuddy asked you to?"

"No."

"I've spent a total of one hour with you in the last month. It's been at least two months since you and I have had a conversation that wasn't work related. So why the sudden interest in my life again?"

"It's not _sudden_...I'm worried about you."

"Just now?"

"No, not _just now_."

"And why are you so _worried_?"

"Because...because I know what it's like to lose someone unexpectedly."

"I haven't _lost_ anyone."

"But you know that you could."

"..."

"And I know that if you do, you're going to pretend that it doesn't matter. You're going to try and convince yourself that it doesn't hurt. And I guess...I just wanted to tell you, that you don't have to do that."

"Wow...thanks. I'll keep that in mind. I'm glad I could get this sage advice from the resident expert on grief recovery."

"You know what? You're right."

"..."

"I'm the last person who should be giving anyone advice on grief. I just thought...I know how hard this is going to hit you. I know you think you're invulnerable, that these things don't apply to you, that you're some kind of..."

"Okay, you can _officially_ go now."

"What?"

"You've fulfilled your obligation. So you can go now."

"Wait..._what_ obligation?"

"You think I don't know how your mind works? You rescue people, not because you genuinely _want_ to help them, although I'm sure there's a part of you that does, but because you want to be able to say that you did. You sleep better at night, knowing that regardless of the outcome, you gave it your best shot. So I'm just letting you know...I'm acknowledging that you gave it your best and you can leave now."

"I'm not leaving, House."

"..."

"And your phone is ringing."

"Thanks for letting me know. Because I _totally_ couldn't hear it."

"Aren't you going to answer it?"

"I'm sure they'll leave a message."

"What if it's urgent?"

"Then they'll leave an _urgent _message."

"Will you please just answer the damn phone?"

"Why is it so important to you?"

"Why _isn't_ it important to you?"

"..."

"It could be the surgeon."

"It could be the Pope. Who the hell cares? Whoever they are, they can leave a message."

"You're afraid."

"Nope."

"Yes, you are. You're afraid to answer. You're afraid that he's dead."

"..."

"Give me the phone."

"No."

"House...you can't avoid this forever."

"Knock it off, Wilson."

"Answer your damn phone already."

"Bite me."

"I'm trying to help you."

"On your own terms, as usual."

"What the hell is your problem, House?"

"I would have thought that was obvious, Wilson."

"..."

"My problem is _you_."

* * *

_Madonna. "Like A Prayer." Studio Album. Warner Bros. 1989. _


	52. Like a Prayer III

_Okay. So I obviously lied about the two part thing. There are three. I gave it a semi-positive ending._

* * *

**Like a Prayer: Part III**

"So you care about him."

"What?"

"You actually care about him."

"..."

"That's why you're here, despite your own reservations with the concept of an all powerful God...you care enough about him that you're willing to set aside your doubts and make an effort."

"That's not why I'm here, Wilson."

"Then why _are_ you here?"

"I think it's safe to say, that anyone who's stupid enough to invest in a relationship with me...is destined to suffer for it."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"Well let's see. How did Cuddy phrase it? Oh yeah. I _make everyone around me worse for being there_."

"..."

"He shouldn't have to suffer for my mistakes. No one should."

"..."

"I mean, God...someone should write a book."

"A book?"

"You know, warning people."

"..."

"Who would be better qualified to extol my...what's the opposite of a virtue? You could consider it a public service."

"..."

"You could call it _101 Ways Greg House is Guaranteed to Fuck up Your Life_."

"I don't think that's the kind of thing..."

"What I don't understand is...why not me?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...like the accident for instance."

"What accident?"

"..."

"What about it?"

"I survived and Amber didn't. And that doesn't make any sense."

"Not everything that happens in life is going to make sense, House. You should know that as well as anyone."

"She was young, attractive, successful. She had everything going for her. She had...you."

"..."

"I was the one who deserved to suffer the consequences. Not her."

"So...you should have been the one to die because what...you were older, because you weren't currently in a romantic relationship?"

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what the hell _are_ you saying?"

"If someone _has_ to die, logically speaking, it should be the person who will leave the fewest people grieving in their wake."

"..."

"Or in my case,_ no_ people."

"Why would you think that nobody would..."

"And look at Kutner...his death made _no _sense at all."

"House..."

"I saw him _every _day and I never once picked up on the fact that he was suicidal."

"Do you think you could have prevented his death if you had?"

"I've scoured my memory banks, trying to figure out what I might have said or done that would drive him to kill himself for relief."

"It had nothing to do with you, House."

"But you don't _know _that."

"He was obviously in some kind of pain."

"And I'm sure that anything I might have done would have made it worse, not better."

"He enjoyed working for you."

"Apparently not enough to want to go on living."

"Where the hell is this even coming from? House...it's not your fault that he killed himself."

"But you have no way of _knowing_ that for sure."

"And you do?"

"He never should have gotten caught up in this nonsense."

"Who, Kutner?"

"..."

"You mean Alvie."

"I should never have allowed him to become involved."

"Then why _did_ you?"

"Why do you think?"

"I wouldn't be asking if I knew."

"I was lonely."

"..."

"I was used to seeing you every day. I mean, you were the last person I saw before I went to sleep at night and the first person I saw when I woke up in the morning. I was just starting to_ like _my life, maybe even for the first time ever."

"..."

"Then all of a sudden, you were gone and I was alone again."

"..."

"And I realized how unlikely that was to change. I was lonely and desperate, and in a very dark place. I came very close to falling off the wagon. I was _sure_ I'd hit rock bottom, that I could stoop no lower, that I was _way_ past the point of no return. I was sure that wherever I was headed, there would be no turning back."

"..."

"But then Alvie showed up at just the right moment, and I suddenly remembered."

"Remembered what?"

"What it felt like to have someone actually _want_ me around."

"You don't think I want you around?"

"..."

"Why would you think that?"

"I have no idea what you really want, Wilson. But I seriously doubt that it includes me."

"Well...you're wrong."

"..."

"I mean, I know it doesn't _seem_ like it. I know that lately I haven't exactly been available...but that's not because I don't want to spend time with you."

"You either make time for something or you don't. If something is important to you, then you make the time."

"It's not that simple."

"Yes, it is."

"But I honestly had no idea that you felt this way, House. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You were busy."

"I would have _made_ the time, House. I would have made time, if you'd asked."

"I _did_ ask. Several times, in fact. Every time I called, you sounded like you were counting the seconds until you could hang up."

"You still could have told me how you felt."

"What good would that have done? What would that have changed? In what way would that have benefited me?"

"..."

"I mean, when have I ever confided in you about anything that didn't result in you drawing presumptuous conclusions?"

"..."

"When have I ever shared anything remotely personal with you that you didn't assume was the product of an ulterior motive?"

"..."

"What have I _ever_ told you about _anything_ that you didn't feel compelled to maim and dissect, until it had been broken down to a submolecular level?"

"It's wrong for me to want to help you?"

"..."

"What?"

"My mom used to say _you should make sure your own house is in order, before you try rearranging the furniture in someone else's_."

"Your point being?"

"I don't need you to rearrange my furniture. I like it where it is."

"...'

"You have enough problems of your own to deal with. There's no reason for you to waste energy obsessing about mine."

"Then what the hell do you need me for?"

"I just...can't you listen?"

"..."

"I mean, when have you ever just_ listened_?"

"..."

"I didn't bother telling you how I felt, because it was too great a risk. I didn't want to put myself into a position to be dependent on you for anything, because I already knew that you probably weren't going to be there."

"..."

"You know why I stopped _meddling_ in your relationship?"

"I guess I don't."

"I figured that as long as I wasn't the cause of any friction between the two of you, if you _did_ break up, I'd know for sure that it wasn't my fault. Then you wouldn't be able to hold it against me."

"It wouldn't be your fault if we broke up, House."

"..."

"It would be _my _fault, or maybe hers. But not yours."

"..."

"And I should have known."

"Known what?"

"That you'd have trouble adjusting to being alone again, after we'd lived together for all those months. I should have found some way to make it easier for you."

"You mean besides bribing people who would probably rather die than spend their free time with me, into doing just that? You must have realized that you'd eventually go broke."

"..."

"God...I can only imagine how _that _conversation went."

"It wasn't like that, House."

"Foreman and Chase at least spent their money on drinks. All that Taub got out of it were some tacky napkin rings."

"I shouldn't have told you that."

"Shouldn't have told me what?"

"That I'd _asked_ them to spend time with you, that I'd...paid them to."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not true."

"..."

"I mean, I _did_ bring it to their attention...that you might be lonely, that you might need some company. But whatever it is that you did together was their idea, and their participation was voluntarily."

"Wait...so you're saying there was no money involved."

"I offered Foreman twenty bucks to cover his gasoline, and he turned it down."

"Why the hell would you lie about something like that? What purpose could it possibly serve?"

"You always see the worst in people. You always_ assume _the worst about people."

"So?"

"So I thought it would be easier if you just went into the arrangement, thinking that they'd been compensated somehow. That way...you could enjoy yourself, instead of wasting time and energy trying to figure out their agenda."

"Let me get this straight. You actually thought that I'd be _more_ likely to enjoy myself with people who I knew in advance were being paid to tolerate my presence?"

"..."

"Did you eat a bowl of stupid for breakfast?"

"What?"

"I mean, I always suspected. But I didn't expect to get any sort of confirmation, at least not to _this_ extent."

"Confirmation of what?"

"You don't _know_ me, Wilson."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you probably _think_ you do. But you don't."

"..."

"This person, this image you've conjured up in your mind, of exactly who and what it is that you think I am...he doesn't even exist. I don't know who he is. But he sure as hell isn't me."

"Maybe you're right."

"Maybe?"

"Maybe...I don't know you as well as I thought I did."

"..."

"And I was one who insisted on putting distance between us. I don't know when it started exactly, probably around the time that Amber died. But I take full responsibility for the fact that you and...I drifted apart."

"_Drifted_ apart?"

"..."

"It seems your memories are rather biased. I didn't _drift_ away from you, Wilson. I didn't _drift_ at all. I was dragged, kicking and screaming."

"Right."

"..."

"I wish you could understand."

"Understand what?"

"I thought…I really thought I had to choose. I honestly didn't think it would work, trying to have you both."

"So if you _could _have had us both, you would. But if you had to choose one of us, you'd choose her."

"..."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Why the hell are you even telling me this?"

"I just want you to understand..."

"You didn't _have_ to choose. I never once _told_ you that I expected you to choose."

"..."

"I know for a fact that she didn't either, because as much as she can't stand me, unlike the second and third Mrs. Wilsons, she at least made a minimal effort to tolerate me. But you...you made a choice anyway."

"I thought she might have been trying to trick me."

"Trick you how?"

"I thought it was some kind of game. I thought maybe she was only _claiming _to be indifferent, to see if I'd figure out that she was lying. I thought it was some sort of test. It honestly didn't occur to me that when she said she didn't expect me to choose her over you, she was completely serious."

"So you're planning on marrying someone who will probably lie to you at some point, who has probably _already_ lied to you at some point, and who you already know is capable of emotionally manipulating you with ease. Great plan."

"..."

"You tossed me out, Wilson."

"I know."

"It was the first place I'd ever lived, that actually felt like _home_."

"..."

"I mean, I didn't have anybody else to lean on. Just where the hell did you think I was going to go?"

"You acted like you were fine with it."

"How would you even know? You were never around me, once the decision had been made."

"From what I _could_ see, you seemed fine."

"Okay...I'm just going to assume that you're _legally_ blind."

"You could have said something. Why didn't you tell me you were having a hard time?"

"I wanted to see if you'd figure it out on your own. I wanted to see if you even _could_ figure it out on your own."

"So you were the one playing games, not Sam. Wow, what a surprise."

"Yeah, Wilson. I was playing games...and here comes the irony. The main reason that I _didn't _tell you how I felt was because...wait for it...I didn't want you to think that I was attempting to manipulate you."

"What?"

"If you neglected Sam in some way, in favor of giving your attention to me, I wanted it to be your choice. More importantly, I wanted her to _know _that it was your choice."

"..."

"I guess that's what I get for trying to do the right thing. Things go wrong...even when I do everything right. And people wonder why I don't bother."

"…"

"You made a choice, Wilson. It's already done...and now you have to live with it. You can't undo it. You can't just say you were kidding and expect things to go back to normal. Because in case you haven't noticed, _normal _was pretty screwed up."

"..."

"I'm through coming in second."

"You mean with me?"

"I mean with everyone. I mean in _life_."

"…"

"And I'm done talking to you about this."

"It was never about who I liked better, House."

"You know what? I don't give a flying fuck."

"Yes, you do."

"..."

"I only chose her, because I thought that of the two of you, she would react more adversely to being rejected."

"Still don't care."

"I thought that you'd be able to handle it, because you already knew how important you were to me, and therefore you didn't need any further proof."

"What a crock of shit."

"..."

"This wasn't about me. This was about you doing what you always do, which is whatever you thought would be easiest..._for_ _you_."

"Ever since I made that decision, I've found myself questioning it or trying to figure out why the hell I even made it in the first place."

"..."

"I made a choice, and it was a poor one. But I can't go back and fix it. I can't undo the way it made you feel."

"..."

"So I guess what I'm asking is for you to give me another chance."

"Another chance to what...lull me back into a false sense of security and then purge me from your life, the second I get comfortable?"

"..."

"Thanks, I think I'm going to have to pass on that."

"..."

"What I want, I can't have."

"What is it that you want?"

"It doesn't matter."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have brought it up."

"..."

"House...I'm seriously asking."

"And I'm seriously saying that _it doesn't matter_."

"So you don't see the point in communicating your needs, because you know that whatever they are, they're probably not going to fulfilled anyway."

"Yes...all except for the _probably_ part."

"Why can't you just tell me what it is?"

"Because there are actually some things about me that I'd prefer you didn't know."

"..."

"I know it probably doesn't seem like it. But over the past two years or so, I've learned the value of keeping my mouth shut."

"..."

"..."

"Your phone is vibrating."

"Yep."

"Are you going to answer it?"

"It's a text message."

"Which they're probably only sending because they have something urgent to tell you and you won't answer your damn phone."

"Why do you even care?"

"Are you going to read it?"

"Probably someday."

"Someday _soon_?"

"..."

"Maybe you can just wait until they send you a singing telegram."

"..."

"Can_ I _read it?"

"Why the hell would you want to?"

"How long to you intend to keep running from this?"

"I'm assuming you mean that figuratively."

"Okay...how long do you think you can keep _limping_ from this?"

"Until I collapse and die."

"House..."

"Oh for God's sake, _here_."

"..."

"If you want to read it so badly? Knock yourself out."

"Alright."

"But I don't want to know what it says. So just keep it to yourself."

"Then what would be the point of me reading it?"

"..."

"You know that if you hand this over to me, I will probably end up telling you what it says, whether you like it or not."

"So?"

"So...I think that's what you want. I think you want to know the truth, without having to actually ask for it."

"..."

"Because asking implies interest. This way you can pretend that it's out of your control, that the information is being forced on you. You can pretend that you don't care, thus making it easier to give everyone else the false impression that you're completely indifferent."

"No."

"No?"

"I said I didn't want to know. And that's exactly what I meant. There's no deeper agenda or hidden meaning. I just don't want to know."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Well usually you want to know everything. So why don't you want to know this?"

"..."

"I'm going to tell you what this says."

"No, you're not."

"You need to deal with this."

"No, I don't."

"You're eventually going to have to confront this, House. You can't just sit in here for the rest of your life."

"Actually I can. I'm claiming sanctuary."

"_Sanctuary?"_

"Worked for Quasimodo."

"That's terrific, all except for the part about us _not_ being in nineteenth century France."

"..."

"I'm going to read this now."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"I'd_ really _appreciate it if you didn't."

"I'm sure you would. But I wouldn't be doing you any favors if I enabled your desire to remain willfully ignorant."

"..."

"They apparently coded him for thirty minutes."

"I don't want to hear it."

"He went into DIC, and it took them too long to find the source of the bleeding."

"I said I _don't want to hear it_."

"They gave him five units. But they just couldn't replace his blood volume fast enough."

"You can stop talking now."

"The time of death was…"

"Just shut up, Wilson. Just shut the fuck _up_."

"Time of death was...five thirteen."

"..."

"I am so sorry."

"..."

"Please say something."

"..."

"House?"

"Who the hell gives a terminal prognosis via text message?"

"Given the circumstances, they probably assumed that Alvie was your patient. And you're not exactly known for developing personal relationships with your patients."

"..."

"I'm not saying you _can't_. I just saying that you usually don't."

"..."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Suddenly you care about what I want?

"Do you want to be alone right now?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want me to stay?"

"No."

"Maybe we can just sit here. We don't have to talk."

"This is just ridiculous."

"What is?"

"_This_."

"..."

"I manage to make_ one _friend and now he's dead. And he's not just dead. He's dead because of me."

"But you're not responsible for his actions. You didn't _ask_ Alvie to steal the book back, and you had no way of knowing that he'd be willing to break the law in order to get it."

"I knew at the time...I knew exactly what he was capable of."

"..."

"I mean, I met him in a mental hospital for God's sake. That alone suggests that maybe he wasn't firing on all cylinders."

"You have other friends, House."

"No, I don't."

"You're in pain."

"When has that ever really mattered to you?"

"You don't think I care if you're in pain?"

"Are you going to kiss my boo-boo and make it all better? Maybe afterwards we can go get some ice cream."

"You're angry."

"Gee, does it show? Because I was trying so hard to hide it."

"Anger is a perfectly normal response to grief."

"The source of my anger isn't grief. The source of my anger is _anger_."

"If you want to talk about this, we can. I'm not busy."

"Sure...at the moment."

"..."

"Moments pass, Wilson. But the pain doesn't."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that I'll probably end up needing way more from you than you're willing or able to give."

"You shouldn't do this alone."

"I do everything else alone. Suddenly that bothers you?"

"I just mean...you're going to need someone to help you get through this."

"And it sure as hell isn't going to be you."

"Yeah well...that's why I'm sitting here now, because I don't give a crap."

"You're sitting here because your girlfriend is busy."

"..."

"Your interest in my life will only last until she becomes available again, at which point I will be promptly forgotten until the next time you have nothing better to do than talk to me."

"If that's what you want to believe."

"I believe it because it's true."

"..."

"You gave me one week's notice to vacate the loft, prior to which I had been under the impression was going to be my semi-permanent residence. You then proceeded to ignore me for several months. You even sent several of my cancer referrals to other oncologists. We have _one_ thirty-minute conversation that's probably based more on nosiness than genuine concern, and you're expecting some kind of recognition?"

"..."

"Get over yourself, Wilson."

"You think my interest in your life is merely a product of nosiness. What the hell are you basing that on?"

"Your impeccable timing...and the last seventeen years."

"So you have no qualms about attributing motives to _my_ behavior. Yet you're no less presumptuous than you're accusing me of being."

"..."

"If you were so dissatisfied with the last seventeen years, you must have hid it really well. Because I don't recall you ever having issued any complaints about our relationship, except for maybe those made in jest."

"I told you. I learned to keep my mouth shut."

"But why? I can understand wanting to do that with some people, patients and strangers. But why would you feel the need to do it with me?"

"I couldn't afford to lose you."

"So you basically refrained from communicating your thoughts, needs and feelings, because it was distinctly possible that the alternative would be ending up alone."

"I don't_ have _anything else, Wilson."

"What do you mean?"

"I have this _job_. I wish I could say that it gives my life meaning. But I can't, because it doesn't. Alvie's dead and this relationship, or whatever the hell you want to call it, is basically all I've got left."

"..."

"I think it's remotely possible that if we examine our relationship more closely, we will probably discover that what little remains of it is hardly worth salvaging."

"..."

"I can't think of any way in which our relationship has improved the quality of my life. At least not in the past few years."

"I could say the same of you."

"So we're _both_ assholes."

"Apparently."

"You told me once, that you don't get to _choose_ who your friends are."

"Yeah."

"And you really believe that?"

"Obviously, or I wouldn't have said it."

"Then there's something I think you should know."

"..."

"There isn't a single_ second _of time that I've spent with you, that wasn't by choice."

"..."

"I need to know how you feel."

"About what?"

"We need to make a decision, once and for all. Should we even bother trying to make this friendship work? Or should we just scrap it and move on?"

"I don't know."

"That's not an acceptable answer."

"..."

"Okay...let's simplify this into a _yes_ or _no_ question. Do you want to be my friend or not?"

"It's not a matter of _want_."

"..."

"Even when I left...it wasn't because I didn't _want_ to be your friend. It was because I wasn't sure how."

"It's not exactly rocket science."

"With you...I never know what to expect. The normal rules don't apply. Being your friend is like trying to cook in someone else's kitchen. Everything you need is there. You just have to keep opening cupboards until you find it."

"..."

"I want to be your friend, House. But have some things I need to figure out and I want some personal space to do it in."

"Personal space that just happens to have room for your girlfriend."

"..."

"So how long do you think your little soul searching adventure of yours is going to take?"

"I honestly don't know."

"But in the meantime, I'm supposed to just sit around and wait until you feel like paying attention to me again?"

"..."

"It's like you want to be able to s_ay_ that we're friends, without having to actually _be_ a friend."

"What do you want from me, House?"

"You keep telling me that you care, that you're my friend, that you want to support me. But if that were true, you'd set aside time to spend with me."

"Is that all you want...just to spend time with me? Is that what it would take to fix this?"

"..."

"If it's _that_ important to you, I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Yeah that worked out really well last time."

"It doesn't have to be like _last time_."

"..."

"I mean, how much time are we talking here?"

"I don't know. I'm not going to be greedy about it. One night a week would be nice."

"How about one night a week and every other Saturday?"

"You sure you don't want to ask your old lady first?"

"I don't need her permission to socialize with someone."

"..."

"Besides that, I'm not _asking_. I'm telling. This...isn't going to be negotiable."

"..."

"That's what you wanted, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"You wanted me to_ assert _myself, to take responsibility for my own decisions, be willing to take a stand...for _you_."

"Yeah but I didn't think you were actually going to _do_ it."

"From now on, whenever I spend time with you, I will make sure Sam knows in advance that it was _my_ choice."

"And what happens when she breaks up with you?"

"If she ends our relationship over something _that_ trivial, then it was destined to fail eventually."

"And you'd be okay with that?"

"Of course not. But I also know that it's entirely out of my control."

"..."

"House."

"Hmm?"

"Let's get out of here and get you cleaned up, maybe get something to eat."

"I think I'm going to stay."

"For how long?"

"I don't know...a while."

"..."

"Wilson?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to be alone right now."

"You're not alone, House."

"Are you sure there isn't someplace else you're supposed to be?"

"There probably is."

"Then why aren't you leaving?"

"Because if something is important to you, you make the time."

* * *

_Madonna. "Like A Prayer." Studio Album. Warner Bros. 1989. _


End file.
